


The Evils of Truth and Love

by MyceliumMythos



Series: RWCT [4]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adoptive family, Courtroom Drama, Family Feels, Gen, Haven Academy, Journey, Major Original Character(s), Mistral - Freeform, Mystery, Original Character(s), Team RNBW, Team RWCT, Team SCUL, Team as Family, Trials
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-10-12 19:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10498248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyceliumMythos/pseuds/MyceliumMythos
Summary: In the wake of the crime of the century that set Grimm loose on a major city, the members of Team RNBW have been arrested and brought to Mistral to stand trial.  Citrine knows her parents are innocent, but as she soon discovers, there are greater powers working against her to keep her from proving this.  Will Citrine and her friends on Team RWCT be able to shed light on this situation?  Or will the powers threatening Mistral stomp out the truth?





	1. In the Dark of the Night

Robin Nomarch had never been considered either by herself or by others to be a cowardly person.  She had never shied away from conflicts either with humans or with Grimm, and she had never been afraid to make difficult choices as a leader.  She faced all challenges head-on with full acceptance of the consequences that may come to fall on her shoulders as a result.

However, on one evening in early November, Robin was suddenly feeling not so brave.  There was a decision to be made now, and though she hoped to shelter others from it, she knew it would affect all of their lives drastically.  While on that evening, she was at least grateful to be sitting beside her teammates, to have them supporting her in this decision, as she stared around at the other members of the Vermoss Hunting Commune—at Peppa and Salina, preparing the evening’s stew, at Cali, mending Copper the blacksmith’s singed apron, at Chrys scolding Salm for sticking his hand into burs while foraging for nuts—she couldn’t help but wish that things could stay like this forever.

But she knew they couldn’t.  Everything had to change eventually.  She could only hope that the commune—and that their daughter—would be able to accept that as well.

“Alright Warbler,” Robin said at last.  “Call them in.”

Warbler Dalton, who was sitting on the end of a line that consisted of himself, Robin, Nary Coline, and his husband, Budge Melopes, pulled out his flute, Harmonous.  In addition to serving as his weapon, he used his flute to send out signals to the commune.  He raised it to his lips to blow the signal for them to gather, but before he could play a single note, he found it snatched from his hands.

Someone above his head commented, “Neat weapon.  Not really my style, but still, y’know, _cute_.”

Warbler and the rest of Team RNBW jumped to their feet at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and found a tall young man standing behind them.  He had copper-colored, windswept hair and was dressed in pale green sashes.  He twirled Harmonous between his fingers and casually waved at them, saying, “Hey, there.  Nice to see you again.”

Snatching his flute back in a huff, Warbler snapped, “What do you think you’re doing?  Don’t you know not to touch a man’s instrument?”

“And who the hell are you, kid?” Robin demanded, backing Warbler up.

The young man smirked and asked in a mock offended tone, “What?  You don’t remember me?”

Budge, watching the scene in confusion, scratched his head and asked, “You’re not one of Citrine’s friends, are you?”

“I’m…an acquaintance, you could say,” he said.

Cutting between Warbler and Robin and the boy defensively, Nary said, “Guys, more important than who he is—how did he get in here?”

The rest of Team RNBW froze at this realization.  Just like every night, the hunting commune was protected by a ring of portable shield generators.  The shields were strong enough to keep out most of the Grimm foolhardy enough to attack such a large group of people.  To see that something had not only broken through the shield, but that something was a human out in the wilds, was unprecedented.

The young man raised his hands up and shrugged, “Hey, don’t have a cow about it!  I suppose I didn’t think you’d remember me.  We only met once, and you probably talked to my leader more than me.”

“Explain yourself,” Robin demanded, looming over him.  “Why are you here?  And how?”

“Look, I just came to let you know, the job’s done,” the boy said.  “We took care of Kaijumura, just like you asked.”

“What?” Robin shouted.  She grabbed the boy by the shoulders and shook him, demanding, “Start talking sense, kid!  Who are you?  And what happened to the city?”

The boy did not flinch in her grip.  Instead, he smoothly answered, “You want specifics, I get it.  Look, we didn’t get it _as_ destroyed as you would’ve liked, but all the chaos did attract a chimereon to help out.  That’s gotta be worth something, right?”

Behind them, Warbler snorted.  “He’s lying,” he insisted.  “ _Clearly_.  Chimereons don’t exist.”

“Ha, well,” the boy laughed coolly, “I bet your _daughter_ would beg to differ on that.”  As an icy silence fell amongst Team RNBW, the boy took the chance to address them all again and asked, “So, are we getting paid or not?”

With the possibility what could have happened heavy in her mind, Robin grabbed the boy tighter and said in a tone of rising anger, “I’m not paying you a single damn lien!  Tell us what’s happened or else—”

The boy suddenly reached behind his back and grabbed a collapsed staff, which he used to swat away Robin’s hands.  As Nary moved to flank him, he called out, “I’ll just send a bill, okay?” before being consumed in a swirl of shadow.  The shadow quickly disappeared, and him along with it.

“Where’d he go?” Robin asked, staring around the camp.  “Where’d that _punk_ go?”

“And what in the world was he talking about?” Budge asked, clutching his head in confusion.  “Bills, Kaijumura, chimereons—”

“And Citrine!” Warbler exclaimed.  “She was at Kaijumura.  And we haven’t heard from her since before then.  You don’t think—”

“She’s fine.  I’m sure she’s fine,” Nary said, though she was less than confident in saying this.  Still, she had to help keep the wheels on this wagon.  Her teammates could be quick to run away with their imaginations.  “And perhaps that boy simply had us mistaken for someone else.  Perhaps this is simply all a great misunderstanding.”

“Right.  Yeah,” Robin sighed, sweeping her hand though her hair.  “Either way, tomorrow, we’re making our way to the nearest village and calling in to Haven.  Whatever that kid was doing here, there is something—”

There was a loud, metallic smashing sound and Team RNBW spun around just quickly enough to catch the sight of one of the sections of their holo-shield failing and dissipating.  As cries of alarm rose up from the rest of the commune, Team RNBW leapt between them and the breach, prepared to fight whatever monster had been powerful enough to break through their barrier.

But for a moment, there was nothing there beyond the border but the pitch black night and the smashed remains of the projector.

Then, two flashes burst from the darkness, charging towards them.  Robin had barely a second to pull out the dormant staff of her weapon to block an axe kick swinging down at her head.  There was a clang as a metal boot collided with Haruno Tori.  Robin was taken aback by how much she needed to brace herself under the blow.  Her attacker spun and swung their other leg around and Robin began to block, but she found herself unable to move.  Defenseless, the kick smashed into her shoulder and she was flung to the side.

“Robin!” Nary exclaimed, staring after her leader’s crumpled form.  A hand fell on Nary’s shoulder and she was frozen as well.  From the corner of her eye, she could see a kick coming down at her, but a sharp note from Warbler’s flute lined with wind dust blew the attacker off course. 

Grunting as she pushed herself up onto her elbows, Robin called out, “Blindside!”

Nary shut her eyes and activated her semblance, enveloping herself in a blinding flash of light.  As she did, she felt a rush of air behind her and suddenly, she was able to move again.  Letting her flash fade, she looked back at Budge and saw his own gigantic fist slowly returning to normal.

Robin rushed back over to them and the four hunters took up their guards again, only to be taken off-guard when they realized who they were facing off against.

“Bluebell?” Warbler asked, lowering his flute.  “North?”

Bluebell Johnson and North Blustere, members of Team CABN and former classmates of Team RNBW, 20 years past, stared them down with very different postures and expressions.  Bluebell was crouched low to the ground, ready to spring again with his spring-loaded boots, but his shamefully low-slung rabbit ears showed he was hesitant to attack.  North, meanwhile, was stood up straight with her crook slung over her shoulder, her expression as cold as the chill November wind that ripped through the break in the barrier.

“What are you two doing here?” Warbler asked.

“Why did you attack us?” Nary demanded.

“What is going _on_ tonight?” Budge cried out.

North narrowed her eyes slightly.  “I guess you don’t get the news out here.  You’d be running faster if you did,” she commented.  “So lemme just get this out there.  Team RNBW, you’re under arrest for orchestrating a terrorist attack on the city of Kaijumura.  We’ve been hired to bring you in.”

The members of Team RNBW exchanged bewildered expressions before Warbler exclaimed, “But we didn’t _do_ anything!  We didn’t _know_ Kaijumura was attacked.  We haven’t even _been_ anywhere around Mistral in years!”

“Doesn’t matter too much right now, “North said.  “Media thinks you’re guilty.  Evidence says you’re guilty.  You have to come at least face trial.”

Nary considered this carefully.  Despite North’s supposed nonchalance, she could see how readily she gripped her crook.  Bluebell too looked ready to spring into action.  “What if _we_ don’t think we have to?” she asked quietly, calculating how long it would take her to draw her own bow and arrows.

“Oh, come on guys,” Bluebell said imploringly to both parties.  “We don’t have to fight.  We’re all friends here!  Or we used to be.  Acquaintances, at least!”

“Doesn’t mean much right now either,” North commented.

“North, stop it,” Bluebell said, standing upright and putting a steadying hand on her crook.  He looked to Team RNBW with an earnest smile and said, “Guys, you have other friends in Mistral.  And I’m pretty on the fence about this whole thing too.  I’m sure that if you come in peacefully, and if you really are innocent, this’ll all get sorted out in no time.”

While Budge and Nary seemed half-convinced by this, Robin still glared at the pair.  Warbler, meanwhile, was not buying it at all.

“Right,” he scoffed, “because Mistral’s justice system has always been _so_ fair.  Only the right criminals punished there.”

“Warbler, please,” Bluebell begged.  “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Agreed.  It should be such a shame if this situation were to become violent.”

Team RNBW stared around at the sound of a new voice and even Bluebell seemed surprised by the presence of a tall man in orange and black now standing by the main crowd of the commune.  He was staring at the long knife balanced on one of his fingers, the light of the campfires reflecting eerily off his scarred, milky white left eye.

Immediately, Bluebell seemed to be made uncertain by his presence.  North simply glared at him.  “We were handling it,” she growled.

Abraham Hollow, the third member of Team CABN, flipped the knife and caught it deftly.  “I’m certain you were,” he said in the smooth, deep voice of his.  “I just thought I might expedite the situation by making it clear to our friends what is at stake here.”  He smiled over at Robin and said, “Nomarch, if I remember correctly, you were always a pragmatic woman.  You must understand it’s no good for anyone’s faith or morale for a respectable team of hunters such as yourself to be convicted of such a crime, and losses like that only bring on more Grimm.”

Robin only held his gaze evenly. 

“So, you must understand it’s in the best interest of everyone for you to come peacefully to Mistral and prove your innocence there,” Abraham continued on.

“Only if we think we’ll actually be proved innocent,” Robin countered.  “And given the situation, I’m not sure how our chances are looking on that.”

“Of course, of course.  Pragmatic as always,” he nodded.  “But I would like you to at least consider that agreeing to come along peacefully could only be a point in your favor.  And I would like you to know that attempting to fight and flee would not only reflect poorly on you, but it could lead to some unfortunate collateral damage.  Right here.”  Abraham turned his gaze fully on the other member of the commune.  “Right now.”  He let the knife fall from his hand.  It stuck fast in the ground.

“Abraham, stop it!” Bluebell insisted quickly as North’s lip curled up in disgust.  Some members of the commune seemed just as defensive at these comments.

“You think you can intimidate us just because we’re not hunters?” Chrys snapped.  Behind her, Copper clenched his hammer tightly and Salina reached for the knife from her cutting board.  “We’ve dealt with thugs and Grimm for 20 years too.  We’re not afraid of you and your little threats.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Abraham said.  “But the question is—are your leaders?”

He turned his gaze onto Team RNBW, who had watched this all transpire silently.  All set on edge by their fury and indignation, Nary and Warbler were on their toes, ready to pounce, while Budge’s fists were clenched tightly, already beginning to swell.

Then, there was a thud as Robin’s axe hit the ground, followed by her knees as she knelt there heavily.

“Alright,” she called out.  “We surrender.”

A shocked murmur ran through the commune as, without question, Nary, Budge, and Warbler followed suit, all of them kneeling and folding their hands behind their heads.  Abraham, meanwhile, smiled congenially. 

“I’m glad we could all agree to be reasonable,” he said, leaning down and retrieving his knife.  “And I do hope you can all accept my leadership in the interim,” he said, addressing the rest of the commune.  “I would advise you to rest well tonight.  We’ll be making our way to Mistral in the morning.”  Gesturing towards Team RNBW, he added, “Bluebell, North, if you would?”

North spat in disgust.  “Fuck you,” she said, and then stalked away towards the broken barrier.

Bluebell wavered a moment, staring between Abraham and North.  Then, he knelt beside Robin and began to cuff her hands before her.  “I am so, so sorry,” he told her in a hushed tone.  “It wasn’t supposed to go like this.  I swear, I didn’t know Abraham would do that.”

Staring straight ahead at the ground, Robin muttered, “You were just doing your job,” in a tone that did not seem to accept this as an excuse.

His ears slunk lower, just like his stomach, as he felt the resentful gaze of Warbler, Nary, and Budge on the back of his neck.  He felt he had to do something to improve the mood.

“Um, you know,” Bluebell added, “I had my suspicions when I first saw her, but I’m certain now.  That Citrine—she’s your daughter, isn’t she?”

Robin’s head snapped up immediately.  “You saw her?” she asked.  “How is she?  Was she really at the city?  Was there really a chimereon there?”

“Was,” Bluebell nodded.  “Me and North took care of it.  And your kid got a little banged up fighting the rest of the Grimm, but she came out alright.”  He smiled reassuringly.  “You’d have been proud of her.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Robin let her head fall back.  Behind her, Bluebell apologetically carried on with cuffing the rest of her teammates.  Around her, the rest of the commune bitterly carried on with their evening duties under the gaze of someone who had just threatened their lives. 

How quickly this night had spun sideways and out of her control.

At this moment, the only thing she could hope was that her daughter knew as little about this as possible.  If Citrine knew that her family was in danger, this powder keg of a situation could only be set to explode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand we're back! Here's the obligatory Team RNBW prologue (or, the RNBWlogue) with some bad stuff going down. But also fun stuff, like learning about their semblances! Be back with our kids soon.
> 
> And hey. 
> 
> It's gonna be chicken nugget day.


	2. Chicken Nugget Day

It was chicken nugget day at Haven Academy and the cafeteria was abuzz with chatter, not only because the students had all been gifted with the one food that made their meal times worthwhile and school life bearable, but because the school and kingdom alike had recently been shaken by the biggest scandal in decades.  Nearly everyone had something to say about it.

For some, the attack on Kaijumura had already taken on a mythic feel and they were eager to try to work out the exact details of what would constitute this legend.

“Okay, but did anyone actually get footage of it?” argued Dolce Nebeling of Team RDDD.  “Is there actually any footage of this supposed ‘chimereon’?  No?  Then I don’t think it was really there.”

“Dolce, dozens of people saw it!” her teammate Dorado Tesoras pointed out.

“Dozens of people ‘see’ Marie’s illusions too,” Dolce countered.  “Doesn’t mean they’re there.”

Others were more concerned with the ramifications of the incident, and what could come of the fact that it had even happened.

With their heads bent together around the table, the third years of Team QOTS were discussing this in hushed, concerned tones.

“What do you think this’ll mean for us?” Opal Peninnah asked.  “Having a Grimm attack this close to home?”

“Shucks,” swore Spinel Blumstein.  “You don’t think they’re gonna make us take extra classes on account of this, do you?”

Their leader, Quartz Stanford, shook her head and said, “Guys, there’s like, so much worse stuff that’s gonna come from all this!  The shopping district in Kaijumura could be shut down for months!  Where are we supposed to get our new matching outfits now?”

“And did you guys hear what happened in Vale with the White Fang?” Tourmaline Mason asked.  “Crazy times.  Who knows what the world’s coming to.”

But for the majority of the first-years, the subject of most interest was one that hit close to home.  They had continued to go back and forth on it over the past few days because it concerned whether one of their own, Citrine Vermoss, had parents who were major criminals.

On chicken nugget day, the first-year Teams BLUJ, HNNE, SHGR, and TTTT were sat at one table with their discussion growing more and more heated.  In part, their stubbornness and adherence to their points was because of the absence of Teams SSSN and ABRN.  Without those top teams around, a power vacuum had opened up within their social structure, and those left behind were eager to assert themselves and their opinions in order to rise to the top.

“It just don’t feel right,” Hayward Peters drawled, slowly shaking his head.  “Hunters don’t just go bad like that.  They don’t go bad on a ‘destroy a city’ level.  I’m not sure I can believe that there Team RNBW would just do this.”

“ _Nobody_ just goes bad like that.  Hunters are no exception,” Sygnus Alarch sniffed.  “They were probably nasty people all along.”  He grinned around at them nastily and said, “I bet they were just _freaks_.  You know they just live out in the woods and mountains like bandits, right?  Who knows how people like that think.”

However, for those who were friends of Citrine, this issue was also personal.

Jean Gormlaith slammed a fist on the table and sternly snapped, “That’s enough, Sygnus.”  Her teammate Limon grabbed her plate of nuggets to shield them from the potential crossfire.  As an honorable person with a strict moral code, it was not a good idea to slander Jean’s friends in front of her.  “Those are our classmate’s parents you’re talking about,” she said.  “They deserve our respect.”

“They’re her weirdo, adoptive family.  I hear they found her in a shack in a swamp or something,” said Reina Blaire haughtily.  “We don’t owe them anything.”

“You watch your tongue,” Jean snapped.

“You watch your _back_ ,” Reina snapped back.  If they’d had their weapons on hand, they would have already been drawn.

Nimbus Kinto attempted to calm the situation.  “Guys, let’s not fight!” she exclaimed.  “It’s a holy day!  Chicken nugget day!”

“People’s livelihoods are at stake,” Jean said.  “This _should_ be fought about.”

“Those people threatened thousands of people’s lives,” Reina said.  “They deserve to lose their livelihoods at the very least.”

“Now hold on just a dust pickin’ second,” Hayward said.  “They aren’t even on trial yet.  It hasn’t been proven they’re guilty.”

“Oh, _sure_ ,” snorted Tora Go, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  The tiger faunus smiled smugly and said, “It hasn’t been proven yet, sure.  There’s just the fact that they’ve got all that evidence stacked up against them and that they’re already under arrest, but hey.”  She took a sip of her tea.  “That’s none of my—”

There was a thunk and a clatter of plates as a booted foot landed on the edge of the table between Tora and Reina.  The girls looked up in shock at the face of Skull Muinarc, accompanied close behind by the rest of Team SCUL.  He sneered down at them in disgust, the expression aided by his gaunt features and dark makeup.

“ _Sorry_ ,” Skull growled, glaring back and forth between them.  “Thought I saw some trash on your table.  _Oh wait_ , it’s still there.”  He stomped his foot again and again, smashing their chicken nuggets and clattering all the plates on the table as everyone looked on in horror.  It was only when the nuggets were the same consistency as the mashed potatoes that accompanied them that he stopped.

“There,” he said, scraping his boot off on the edge of the table.  “You’re welcome.”

As he stalked away, they only had a moment to breathe before Umbra slammed a fist on the table to shake them up further before knocking both their plates to the floor with her tail.

Lux walked up to them next, her hands folded behind her back.  “My apologies,” she said, looking them over coolly.  “My teammates are simply prone to violent outbursts when confronted with _utter nonsense_.”  She then spat on their table, her acidic semblance burning a hole through it.

Then Carmine came up to the table, her expression completely deadpan and unreadable.  She stomped around to stand behind Sygnus, who held his breath in fear.

She grabbed his chicken nuggets and added them to her own plate.  “You don’t deserve these,” she hissed, then skipped off after the rest of her team.

“Good dust,” Nosegay Bunche sighed, staring after them.  “What a bunch of weirdos.”

“What a bunch of _assholes_ ,” Umbra growled as Team SCUL passed through the cafeteria.  “Where do they get off?  We should’ve done way more than smash their food.”

“I believe we made our message clear,” Lux said.  “Everyone’s shaken enough as is, and there’s been enough fighting in the halls to last this school a while.  For now, we should simply let them stew in their own ignorance.”

“Yoo-hoo!  Team SCUL!” a familiar voice called out to them.

“Speaking of ignorance,” Skull said.  He took one look at the source of the voice before grimacing and attempting to turn on his heels and walk away.  “We’re out of here.”

“Nooo, come on!  They’re so much fun,” Carmine whined.  “I wanna sit with them.”  Balancing her plate on her head, she first grabbed Skull and then Lux to ensure that Umbra would follow too before dragging them over, singing, “Hi, guys!”

Royal and Ware were seated together, practically isolated at their own table near the back of the cafeteria.  This was some feat, given Ware’s popularity as a former popstar.  He tended to attract fans whenever Citrine wasn’t around to frighten them off.  However, it now seemed that the mere notoriety of his team leader was enough to keep even the most devoted Star Shot fans at bay.  He seemed stressed out, regardless, only pushing his nuggets and potatoes around on his plate with a fork instead of actually eating them. 

As always, with his impeccable appearance and beaming smile, Royal seemed more well put together than anyone else in the room, but a keen eye, such as Lux had, would have noticed the signs of stress in him as well, including the imperfect roll of his sleeves and the small, faint stain on his collar.  Still, he was the most gracious host as always.

“Greetings,” he addressed Team SCUL as they sat down across from him and Ware.  “It’s so very kind of you to join us today.”

Skull only responded with a non-committal grunt.  Resting his head in his hand and staring straight through Royal, he made it very clear he was technically not present in this conversation.

“We saw you mincing words with Team SHGR and Team TTTT over there,” Ware said.  “I’m guessing they had something to say about Citrine’s parents?”

“Some bullshit to say,” Umbra said, glaring down at her own beowolf-shaped nuggets.  “I just can’t stand people like that mouthing off about shit they don’t understand.”

“That’s what we get for living in the age of Hearth and flash headlines,” Lux sighed.  “People tend to think they’re a lot more informed than they actually are.”

“Either way, thank you,” Ware said in an unusually sincere tone for the normally sly and sarcastic boy.  “With all the rumors flying around, it’s been a difficult few days for all of us.”

Lux’s expression softened sympathetically.  “How is Citrine?” she asked.  “This can’t be easy for her to handle, particularly right after coming back from Kaijumura.” 

Beside her, Skull’s eyes flickered for a second with interest, but he otherwise remained motionless.

“Of course.  There must be so many eyes on her right now, and it must be atrocious to hear all those rumors concerning her parents,” Royal nodded.  “But I would say she hasn’t been making this easier for herself either.  She’s started three fights in the past two days with people she overheard speaking poorly of Team RNBW, and one of those was with a third year who easily could have trounced her if Professor Lautrec had not intervened.”  He folded his arms and slowly shook his head, saying, “Quite frankly, I’m not sure what to tell her at this point.  She hasn’t seemed receptive to any of my reassurances so far.”

“That’s because you’ve been trying to tell her to calm down,” Ware snapped suddenly.  Royal looked at him, taken aback, as he stabbed a nugget with his fork and said, “Her parents have been falsely accused of attacking a major city.  They’ve already been arrested and are on their way to Mistral right now for a humiliating public trial that will at the very least ruin their reputations as hunters.  I think now of all times is the right time for Citrine to get angry.”

Royal bit his lip and fumbled for a moment, saying, “Yes, of course.  I simply thought that perhaps she wasn’t dealing with this anger in the most, er, productive manner.”

Umbra snorted.  “What do you know about getting angry anyway, rich boy?” she asked.  “It’s not always about being productive or whatever.  Sometimes, you just gotta mess some shit up to make yourself feel better.”

He scoffed at that.  “I find that hard to believe.  There are such better ways to spend your time and energy than on mindless, violent self-gratification,” Royal said.  “Which is why, in addition to procuring one of the finest lawyers in the land to represent Team RNBW in their upcoming trial, Ware and I will be visiting Mumus Industries today in order to see if we can gain further insight from Mr. Xalbador on how this curious situation came together.”  He reached over to put a hand on Ware’s shoulder as a sign of solidarity, only for Ware to block the gesture.

Ware looked to Umbra and Lux imploringly, as if asking them to excuse this infraction of a personal code.  “It’s not my favorite way to spend an afternoon,” he sighed.  “Attempting to use celebrity sway wherever and with _whoever_ I can to get what I want.”  He ran a hand through his long, silver hair.  “But it’s for Citrine.  I’ll do what I have to.”

Lux nodded.  “She’s lucky to have such influential teammates on her side today,” she said.  “And I wish both of you luck in your endeavors.”

“Hey,” Skull said, abruptly returning to the conversation.  “Where is Sunshine anyway?”

Carmine’s mouth fell open, full of half-chewed nuggets.  “And where’s Torque?” she asked.  “Those two weren’t in class today.”

Ware stared over Carmine’s head and met Skull’s gaze with suspicion.  “Why do you want to know?” he asked, fully aware of Citrine and Skull’s turbulent, if slightly improved relationship.

Skull glared at him a moment, not betraying anything, before turning to Royal.  “Hey Fancy Pants, where’s your partner?” he demanded.

“In Professor Wine’s classroom, I believe,” Royal answered.  “After Professor Lautrec broke up her fight with that third year, she recommended Citrine take a mental health day to avoid any further altercations.”  He sighed, saying, “I _offered_ to take her on a spa retreat, to have some of these toxic emotions skillfully scrubbed and peeled away, but again, she seemed to prefer the idea of venting her aggression onto the unsuspecting machinery of Professor Wine’s classroom.”

“Hell yeah!” Umbra exclaimed approvingly.

Rolling his eyes, Ware said, “Torque should be there too.  She’s been trying to help Citrine how she can, but I don’t think she’s really open enough to talk her through this.  Still, I’d rather have Torque on her scroll in the same room as Citrine throwing herself at a bunch of death traps than for either of them to be alone right now.”

Skull considered this a moment, then kicked back with his plate in hand and stalked away from the table.

Ware narrowed his eyes uncertainly.  “And I would rather not have that at all.”

“Wait, leave your nuggets if you’re not gonna eat them!” Carmine called after him.

“Well, I suppose we shouldn’t dawdle any further.  Come along, Ware,” Royal said, rising from his own seat.  “Mumus Industries is only open to the public until six, so we must be hurrying along.”

Umbra stared up at him in confusion.  “It’s 12:30 in the afternoon,” she said.  “What the hell’s your rush?”

Royal chuckled and smirked.  “Oh, Umbra,” he sighed condescendingly.  “You can’t simply show up on the doorstep of a major corporation and demand to see the CEO.  These matters require a more delicate touch.  You need to be the right person, know the right people, and make the right moves in order to appear as though you should just naturally have an audience with them.  You need to make an _appearance_.”

Umbra scratched her head.  “Huh?”

“He means we have to pick up new suits along the way,” Ware translated exasperatedly.  “Which, for him, can take a while.”

“Thank you for your kind words and conversation today,” Royal said to the rest of Team SCUL.  He pulled out his wallet and left some lien on the table, saying, “That should cover the bill.  Ta ta for now!”  He then swept out of the cafeteria, with Ware reluctantly trailing behind him.

As Carmine gleefully began to scavenge the rest of their nuggets, Umbra and Lux were left staring down the pile of cash left to them. 

“That’s like, 15,000 lien right there,” Umbra said.

“It certainly is,” Lux nodded.

“He knows this is a cafeteria, right?” Umbra asked.

“I’m not sure he grasps the concept,” Lux said.

Umbra pocketed it regardless.  Just like many others, the Haven Academy experience was far from what she had expected, but she, at least, intended to make it keep paying out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teams featured in this chapter:  
> Team RDDD/Red  
> Red  
> Dorado Tesoras  
> Dolce Nebeling  
> Daphne Dubois
> 
> Team QOTS/Quartz  
> Quartz Stanford  
> Opal Peninnah  
> Tourmaline Mason  
> Spinel Blumstein
> 
> Team BLUJ/Blue Jay  
> Bella Cinthenia  
> Limon Cello  
> Ursula Arcton  
> Jean Gormlaith
> 
> Team HNNE/Honey  
> Hayward Peters  
> Nosegay Bunche  
> Nimbus Kinto  
> Ebony Illunis
> 
> Team SHGR/Sugar  
> Sygnus Alarch  
> Hieronymous Bush  
> Gallus Rosen  
> Reina Blaire 
> 
> Team TTTT/Tea  
> Tora Go  
> Truck Thorston  
> Tank Thorston  
> Thorn "T-Bone" Bonaventur


	3. Seeing Red

Citrine’s world was red.

In a metaphorical sense, red with the rage that had flooded her life since learning of the charges pressed against her parents days ago.

In a literal sense, red with the ruby shade her knuckles had turned from being beaten against the metal and wood of the practice dummies in Professor Wine’s classroom.  There was no helping it.  Though she very well should have been using her axe or her semblance to attack them, there was nothing satisfying at the moment about the wide arcs of Harbinger or the insubstantial her blasts.  She needed to dig her fists into something straight on.

The dummies surrounded her in concentric circle tracks, periodically firing lasers at her.  Citrine ducked and weaved, using the cooldown periods in-between the blasts to punch and kick the targets on their vital points.  As the targets lit up red with damage, the dummies began to spin and shoot faster and Citrine sped to match them.  She let this cycle continue several times over before aiming a spinning kick that knocked the head off one of the dummies.  As it let out one last defensive blast, she hit the ground and let the laser pass over her, scorching the center target on the other dummy.  Both of them rolled to a slow stop.

Citrine was left lying on her stomach, breathing heavily.  For just a moment, but for far too long, she was left alone with her thoughts.

“Torque!” she called out, pushing herself to her feet.  “I need more dummies.”

From where she was seated against the wall, Torque looked up her best friend still half seething in rage, then at the wrecked dummies lying around her feet.  “You’ve…already beaten three sets of those,” she said slowly, unsure of how else to respond to the situation.  “Are you sure you want more?”

“ _Yes_ , I’m _sure_ ,” Citrine snapped.  She kicked the decapitated dummy head halfway across the room.  “Stupid things can barely take a hit nowadays.”

Torque set her laptop aside and walked to the cabinet where the spares were kept and where Citrine’s already broken conquests were piled up.  “They’re just robots, Citrine,” she murmured.  “They’re only doing the best they can.”

Citrine, however, didn’t take much notice of this statement.  Instead, she headed over to a specific section of the classroom’s wall—one covered in dim lights and small, open slots.  She flipped a switch beside this wall and took her stance before it. 

One of the lights lit up a blaring red.  Citrine punched it and then spun away as a spear thrust out from an adjacent slot.  Another one lit up close to the ground.  She kicked it, then jumped away off-balance as a spear burst through where her leg would have been.  One lit up above her head.  She leapt to hit it, jumped off the spear that thrust out where she would have landed, then rolled forward to avoid the line of spears that thrust out after her one by one.

She carried on like this, just as the lights and spears carried on in an increasingly difficult rhythm, but a rhythm nonetheless.  As challenging as it was to need to be able to hit every button, to dodge every spear, it was still soothing compared to the reality she would have to face as soon as stopped fighting this programmed automated pattern.

Because as much as she tried to push it out of her mind, she knew— _she knew_ —she would have to go back to a world where seemingly friendly strangers turned violent out of the blue and great beasts from out of fairy tales attacked the most guarded cities in the world and her parents, her parents— _her parents_ —were _criminals_.

Citrine was a little too slow—again—and a spear caught her on the side of the arm.  “Shit!” she shouted before attempting to slam her fist against the next red light.  With her blind aim however, she missed the light and got her fist caught in the adjacent spear slot.  As she tried to yank it out, she heard the telltale _whoosh_ of another spear thrusting out.  There was just a brief moment of panic as one burst out, aimed directly at her head, before it abruptly stopped in its tracks, its blunted tip half an inch from her forehead.

All the machinery and lights of the spear wall quieted and Citrine’s first reaction was to find something else to distract her mind.  She was quickly able to find it in the form of the person who had flipped the switch off and was now casually leaning against the wall.

“Sup?” Skull said, nodding to her.

“ _Skull!_ ” Citrine shouted as even her face began to flush red.  “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh, what am I ever doing around you?” Skull asked lazily.  “Mostly here to harass you for screwing up again.”

For a moment, Torque paused in her work and stared over at this confrontation.  She had learned to trust Skull at least a modicum, but that didn’t mean she was going to let him walk all over her friend.  Citrine, however, was in the mood to fight her own battles.

“Get lost, Skull,” she growled at him.  “I’m in a bad enough mood without all your bullshit.”

“I guessed as much,” Skull said, “but clearly, you’re not going anywhere fast.”  He nodded briefly at her fist, still stuck in the hole in the wall.

Citrine’s face turned red too.  She unclenched her fist and slowly withdrew it.  As she did, she realized it was shaking and was quick to clench it again.  “I’m serious,” she insisted.  “Do what you came to do and get it over with.  Call me a loser.  Insult my hair.  Pick a fight.  Just get it over with.  Just—”

“Actually,” Skull cut her off.  He reached behind his back and pulled out his weapon, spinning it out into its full war scythe form.  “That last one sounds pretty good.  Let’s do it.”

She frowned, taken aback.  “Wait, what?”

Strolling away from the wall, Skull nodded.  “Yeah, you know, it’s been a while since you and me had a real fight,” he said.  “I figured it was time to try settling this score again.  How about it, Sunshine?”

“You’re joking, right?” Citrine snorted.  “I’m not humoring you and this stupid little rivalry.  I have actual problems to deal with right now.”  She took off to reactivate the spears, but as she reached for the switch, Skull suddenly swung out his scythe to block her.  Bristling, she slammed her fist against the wall again and began to shout, “Skull, I’m—”

“Damnit Sunshine, I’m trying to _help_.”

Citrine turned to look at him and realized that, against all odds, there was no malice or contempt in Skull’s expression.  Some exasperation, certainly, and he always looked at least a little angry, and half the time, that was likely just due to the heavy eye makeup.  Other than that, he looked about as serious as he ever had.  Seeing this, Citrine felt she owed him the benefit of the doubt.

She pulled her hand back.

He rested Charnel Yield on his shoulder.

Torque went back to work on the dummies again.

“Look,” Skull said slowly as if he was still unwilling to admit this.  “I know you’re dealing with some stuff right now.”

“Stuff.  Like my parents being arrested and people thinking they’re criminals,” Citrine said bitterly.  “Sure.  Stuff.”

“And I heard that you’re getting some less than expert advice from your friends on how to deal with that,” he carried on.

Citrine opened her mouth to snap at this, but found she didn’t have much of an actual retort.  For days now, she’d been stewing in her anger, hearing rumors fly about her family and relying on reports from uninvolved newscasters to learn about what was happening to them, and neither Torque nor Ware nor Royal had been able to tell her anything remotely comforting in regards to that.

“It’ll pass.  Rumors always do,” Ware had told her.

But what would it matter if a court convicted them before they did?

“Don’t worry about a thing, my dear Citrine.  My crack team of lawyers will have them out in no time!” Royal had insisted.

But Citrine couldn’t believe that money alone could fix this problem.

And Torque—

There was a loud clunk as Torque snapped the second new dummy onto the track.  Citrine watched her immediately go from this to picking up her laptop and turning all her attention to that again.

Torque hadn’t really said… _anything_ about this.  And Citrine hadn’t exactly been expecting her to, because Torque wasn’t really that kind of person, but it was times like these when that became very apparent and difficult to be reminded of.

She looked to Skull again and shrugged.  “Yeah, so?” she asked.  “What’s that got to do with you?”

Skull rolled his eyes in exasperation.  “Come on, Sunshine.  You’re being pathetic,” he growled.  “Moping around, skipping class, picking fights with losers beneath your notice—”

“That’s what you do all the time!” Citrine snapped. 

“And I pull it off with style because that’s who I am,” he snorted.  “When _you_ do it, Miss Try-Hard Ideals and Rainbows, it’s just _sad_.  And one way or another, it’s gonna get you tossed out of here.”  He pointed Charnel Yield at her accusatorily, saying, “And since all your nagging is half the reason I’m still at this school, I’m not exactly interested in knowing I hitched my wagon to a dropout loser.”

Citrine stared at him in confusion before rubbing the sides of her face and groaning, “Literally, what are you talking about?”

Skull held out his arms in a wide open stance and let his scythe fall to the floor.  “Hit me,” he said

She blinked.  “What?”

“Try and hit me,” he repeated.  “I bet you want something more satisfying than a button to hit.  So come on, Sunshine.  Hit me.”

“Well, I mean,” she said, “I’m not gonna say no to punching you in the face, but you’re just gonna phase out, aren’t you?”

“You won’t know until you try,” he said.  Citrine continued to look doubtful, so he goaded her on, saying, “I _know_ you want to.  If it helps, just remember all those times I called you a sucky leader and called your team losers and humiliated you in front of the class and—”

Citrine launched off from the floor, swung her fist at Skull, and then tumbled out the back as he activated his semblance.  She rolled into a crouch and glared at him as he shrugged.

“What?” Skull asked nonchalantly.  “Never said I wouldn’t.”

Fuming and glaring at him, Citrine charged and punched at him.  Skull dodged the first two swings, weaving left and right, and when she spun to kick him, he let it phase through him.

As she paused to catch her breath, Skull commented, “Wow, tired already?  Dust, you’re pathetic.”

Her vision burned red at the edges as every other thought leaked from her mind.  All her rage and frustration for everything else was replaced by the thought that if she could just hit Skull, knock that smug look of his face, show him that she could do it, then everything would be better.

She kicked off at him again, throwing a wild flurry of kicks and punches at Skull’s head, moving with a rapid-fire flow and coming at him from every angle, doing everything she could to try to land a hit.

Skull, however, simply continued to dodge around the hits he could and allowing others to phase through until he gave up on the pretense and stood still as Citrine repeatedly punched through his head.

“Okay, now you’re literally just punching thin air,” Skull said as her fist repeatedly passed through his incorporeal head.  “What’re you even trying to do here?”

Citrine snapped at him, her words punctuated by her efforts, “I’m—trying—to—hit—you!”  She tried bringing down both of her fists over his head and shouted, “You said I could hit you!”

“No, I told you to try and hit me,” he corrected her.  “You’re the one who’s not getting the job done.”

She rushed him again in frustration.  He phased her though again, only this time, he was also quick to grab his scythe from off the floor, spin around, and swipe its handle at Citrine’s foot.  She tripped over the weapon and skidded onto the floor.

Skull heard the transformation of metal and looked around to see Torque with one hand still on her laptop, the other on the handle of her hammer.  “ _Relax_ ,” he hissed.  “I’m not trying to hurt her, just pummel a lesson through that thick head of hers.”

“And what the hell am I supposed to be learning, huh?” Citrine barked at him as she rose to her feet.  Her face was burning again, her thoughts an angry haze.  “That you’re an asshole?  That you still love getting under my skin?  That you give shitty lessons like ‘try to hit something that can’t be hit?’”

“Uh, yeah, the last one,” Skull said.  As she looked at him in confusion, he added, “And I’m not a shitty teacher.  You’re just shit at learning.”

“Well then, just spit it out already!” she shouted at him.  “Just tell me what you think I’m doing wrong!”  She said this in aggravation as if she just wanted him to get it over with, but in reality, she was at least a little curious.  There always seemed to be something wrong with her—picking too many fights, making too many bad calls.  Maybe someone like Skull who pointed out everyone’s flaws would know what that actually was.

“Look, it’s simple.  You said if yourself, Sunshine,” Skull told her with more patience than she had been expecting.  “You’re trying to hit something that you can’t.  You picked up a while ago that you can fight me by hitting back when I try to hit you.  But in case you hadn’t figured it out, I haven’t been trying to hit you this time.  I could run circles around you with my semblance for hours, and all you’d do is wear yourself out, attacking me like that.”

“What, so then you were just always gonna screw me over with this?” she demanded.  “Why even tell me to hit you then?”

“Because you _could_ have,” he snapped.  “When I grabbed Charnel to trip you, if you’d been on-balance and paying attention, you could have hit me then—if you were ever even fast enough to do it.”

“Which I am,” she insisted.

“ _Point is_ ,” Skull said, “you missed your shot because you were so angry and focused on the wrong thing, just like the way you’re screwing up your life now, trying to fight everything and everyone.”

“You think _now_ is the wrong time for me to fight?” she demanded.  “Skull, my parents are going to jail and half the school thinks they’re criminals.  Now is the perfect time to fight.”

“It’s the _worst_ time, Sunshine,” Skull snapped.  “And you wanna know why?  It’s because those piddly assholes out there saying this shit—the media and the Reinas and the Toras—don’t mean anything to what’s going to happen.  But you will.  And maybe you’ll mean that they get out of this alright, but it’s never going to come to that if you’re wasting your time and energy throwing yourself at everything that moves.  Okay?  Got it?  Is that clear enough yet?”

She tried to think of some way to rebut this point, but she drew a blank.  It was…not untrue that she had been jumping to start fights with anyone who spoke poorly of her family.  It was true she’d barely gotten a wink of sleep lately because she kept laying awake under the covers, watched muted news stories about the attack.  And maybe it was true that she was doing all this because she couldn’t think of anything else that would actually help Team RNBW.

But _still_.

Her fists clenched and she glared down at them.  “I can’t just do nothing,” she said.

“It’s not nothing,” Skull said evenly.  “It’s waiting for the right moment, and then doing what you need to do.”  He noticed the crinkle of frustration still in her forehead and sighed, adding, “I know it sucks.  You’ll never feel more helpless than when you’re waiting for this.  But I damn well mean it when I say it’s the best thing you can do right now.”

This was hard for her to swallow, to accept that she really was out of control of this situation.  Then, she stopped to qualify what this meant.

 _Maybe it’s not the best thing for you, but for Team_ _RNBW_ , she told herself.

Her parents were in enough trouble already.  Maybe this meant she wouldn’t get the immediate satisfaction of pummeling the face of someone who insulted her family, but the last thing Team RNBW needed right now was a daughter who put on a violent, rule-breaking front.

With that in mind, admitted that she needed to stop for a minute.

She needed to cool down.

Citrine breathed in.

Breathed out.

Shakily unclenched her fists and flexed her fingers.

She looked back at Skull, who was waiting patiently.  “Okay,” she said.  “I’m good”

Skull rolled his entire head exasperatedly and said, “Finally, she gets it.  You know, it’s a wonder you can even manage to turn your axe on, Sunshine.  I could’ve taught a dog to field strip a rifle faster than that.”

Despite his mocking words, Citrine did notice that Skull also seemed more relaxed now, as if _he’d_ gotten over a hurdle too.  With this in mind, as well as the fact that he wasn’t easily insulted through traditional means, Citrine pulled out something from a different arsenal to throw back at him.

“Hey,” she said, “why’re you helping me?  You already saved me back at Kaijumura.  I thought that would make us even.”

Skull hesitated.  It was just for a second, but that was still a second too long.  The truth usually came from him instantaneously.

“Like you said, I owed you double for that last one,” he said.  “I paid you back double.  I don’t take charity, okay?  We’re square now.”

Citrine smiled at him.  It was a small one, but perhaps her first one in the past few days.  “So, if I’m in trouble again, you’re just going to leave me to hang?” she asked leadingly.

“I didn’t say that,” Skull snapped.  “If I have to choose between puling your ass out of the fire and letting you burn, I’m gonna pull, okay?  Because your constant screw-ups and falling in my way make Haven at least half-interesting.  But you’d still owe me afterwards.  I don’t give charity either.”

“What you’re saying then is, we’re just locked in this constant loop of doing things for each other because we appreciate have each other around?” she asked.  “You know, Skull, you could save yourself a lot of breath by just admitting we’re friends.”

Skull fumed and spear-tossed his weapon at her.  Citrine was ready and easily swatted it away.

Skull smirked, satisfied.  Citrine smiled back, for a moment, content.

“Um, Citrine?”

The moment was broken by Torque’s hesitant voice, reminding them that she was still there too.  With a clearer head, Citrine suddenly felt guilty for having forgotten about her, or just for having taken it for granted that she would still be there.

“Torque!” she exclaimed, hurrying over to her as Skull hung back.  “What’s up?”

Torque sat solemnly, despite the positive attention.  She had watched all of Citrine’s interactions with Skull, and she was no happier as a result to have to be the bearer of bad news.

“This stuff just started popping up on Hearth,” she said, beckoning for Citrine to look at her laptop screen.  “I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

Citrine stared for a moment, then swore.  Even Torque could see she didn’t like that one bit.

“I have to go,” she announced, straightening up.  Her voice was no longer angry, but urgent.  “Torque?”

Torque looked down and mumbled, “Can’t.  I have to work on something.”

Citrine didn’t miss a beat before turning back.  “Skull?” she asked.

Skull didn’t miss a beat before shrugging as noncommittally as he could and saying, “Apparently I’ve got nothing better to do than waste my time on you.”

The two of them took off from the classroom, headed towards whatever calamity Torque’s Hearth feed had brought to their attention.  Torque herself stared after them, jealous for just that moment that there will still so many things in her friends’ lives that she was so unsuited to help them with.  But the moment was quick to pass and she turned back to her work.  That was something she _could_ do well.  That was something _she_ could do that none of her friends could do either, and if her hunch was correct, it might be the thing that saved the day.

As she pushed further into the records of Mumus Industries’ private servers, her eyes scanning for any pertinent information, Torque murmured aloud, “What are you hiding?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was some pretty heady stuff. Time for another fashion chapter!


	4. Belief

Royal did not consider himself a religious man.  In Atlas, this was fairly normal.  The majority of the kingdom had left behind the old gods in Mantle, and Royal in particular had been brought up in a household that believed in science, business, progress, and, of course, the power of the self. 

However, at the moment, he wanted to go to his knees and thank all the gods of the old world for giving him this moment—this singular, beautiful, perfect moment. 

Not, of course, the parts of this moment concerning all the tragedies surrounding poor Citrine and her family, but definitely this part, right here, in the back of this upscale boutique in the heart of Mistral.

Ware stepped out of the dressing room and did a quick turn.  “Look like it’s on right?” he asked.

Royal had to put all his effort into controlling every muscle in his face to keep himself from showing how close he was to crying out of sheer joy.  Ware stood before him, dressed in sleek and well-tailored sleet-grey slacks, white button-up shirt, and a lavender vest and silk tie.  While this stylish ensemble would look good enough on nearly anyone to impress Royal any day, the moment was made so much more incredible by the fact that it was Ware wearing it and that Royal was wearing nearly the exact same moment, only with a fitted suit jacket on top of the vest.

In other words, Royal and Ware were wearing _matching suits_.

“It’s…”  Royal put up two fingers to his lips to try to muffle any break in his voice.  “Perfect.  You look perfect in that.”

Ware only felt taken aback by the compliment for a moment.  Above that, he was unable to help but notice the oddly strained look on Royal’s face.  “Perfect?” he echoed.  “Not a descriptor I ever thought I’d hear you use to describe anyone else’s clothing.  Usually, Citrine can’t even put on a shirt in the morning without complaining about how rumpled it looks.”

“No, I really do insist, you look exquisite,” Royal said.  He blinked, then added, “That’s not to say that you can’t look equally perfect in another manner.  Are you sure I can’t tempt you with the jacket instead as well?”  He smiled charmingly, still holding out hope, even though it had been enough of a struggle to convince Ware to accept matching suits in the first place.  Royal had had to convince him that it would be for the good of the mission.

 _Uniformity suggests unity, Ware,_ Royal told him.  _And unity suggests power.  We could use all the power we can get today._

That was what had convinced him.  What he hadn’t added was that unity and power together suggested power couples, which was what Royal had hopes for in their own future—being the _most_ powerful couple—but he was keeping that close to his chest at the moment.

“I’d say I’m fine as is,” Ware told him.  He walked over to the trio of mirrors and took small turns to examine himself more fully.  As he did, he noticed Royal watching over his shoulder, and again, he noticed how similar their outfits looked already.  It still made him uncomfortable.  After all those occasions when he’d been dressed to match the rest of the members of Star Shot, he wasn’t such a fan of the concept.

“I’m not sure about this,” Ware said, catching Royal’s eye in the mirror.  “I never pictured lavender as a business color to be taken seriously.  Maybe I should go with something different.”

“Oh no, no really.  It’s perfectly fitting for the occasion,” Royal insisted.  He put a reassuring hand on Ware’s shoulder, which Ware quickly brushed away.  “If you’re concerned, perhaps we could do something with your hair,” he suggested.  “It’s so lovely, but you always just wear it down.”  He reached out to gather Ware’s hair in his hands, saying, “Perhaps a ponytail, or a bun, or—” 

He’d barely even touched a strand before Ware spun and smacked his hands away, glaring up at him with bared-tooth fury.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Ware snapped, “ _touch me_.”

Royal blinked, stunned.

Ware charged on.  “Why do you have to keep doing this?” he snapped.  “How many times do I have to tell you?   _Don’t touch me_.”

For a moment, Royal’s mouth only moved without any sound.  His brain whirred without any real thought.  As a result, the first thing he managed to say was, “Well, I mean, in all fairness, you never explicitly, exactly, said… _that_.”

It was Ware’s turn then to be stunned.  Soon after, disgusted.  And then, most terrifyingly, he smiled.  In a voice as sickly sweet as honey, he purred, “Oh, right.  Of course.  This is all _my_ fault.”

“Oh dust, Ware, no, I didn’t mean—”

“No, no, no, honestly, I should have been more clear,” Ware said.  “I should have known better than to believe that anything other than explicit, repeated clarity could make it through that thick skull of yours.”

Royal felt a tightness in his chest, because for the first time, he could both hear and feel Ware’s bite.  He didn’t see this one as playful.  But still, he didn’t let his face or his manner fall.

“Ware, I know you being this calm means you are truly angry,” Royal said.  “I remember that.  Why don’t we both slow down a moment here and you can tell me what you really want here.”

“I’m not interested in talking,” Ware said, eyes narrowing.  “I want you to pay for these suits and for us to get this over with.”  He turned his back on Royal and murmured, “I want this joke my life has turned into to start making sense so I can pretend to be normal for one minute.”

Royal’s shoulders heaved with a sigh.  “As you wish,” he said.

Ware remained silent as a stone during the cab ride over.  Despite the fact that they sat right beside each other, Royal felt like they were miles apart.  Even as they pulled up to the headquarters of Mumus Industries, an impressive tower of steel and glass with signage and cobblestones in the courtyard all in a shade of faint green, he felt distracted by the emotional tension.

Royal wasn’t used to being snapped at like that.  He wasn’t used to uncertainty.  He had been raised by his nannies on epic stories of people who made the world great—of warriors, scientists, artists, and the like.  He grew up idolizing people like the last king of Vale, premiere Mistralese fashion designer Baby Taffeta, captain of industry Nicholas Schnee.  This idolization had been coupled with the certainty imbued in him by his mother that he could do anything, and as such, Royal had also grown up believing that the best course of action would be for him to become like his idols—to be a true hero.

That had been his goal when coming to Mistral, to better become that great hero.  However, recent events had thrown this goal and many others into doubt.  After seeing his own certain lack of courage at various fields of battle, he was beginning to wonder if he really was suited to being such a hero.  And after he had seen Citrine perform so bravely in the same situation, only to be rewarded with the misfortune that had befallen her, he was beginning to wonder if being a hero was really something to be idealized.

And Ware…

He glanced at Ware as they exited the cab.  His stare was cold and distant, as much looking at something a million miles away as it was looking at anything right in front of him.

He was beginning to wonder if he actually knew Ware as well as he thought he did.

“Well, then,” Royal said in a slightly nervous tenor.  “Here we are.”

Ware glanced down and tugged at his cuffs.  “Mm-hm,” he said.

“Do you, um.”  Royal stumbled over his words in the face of this cold indifference.  “Do you remember the plan?” he asked.

Ware snorted.  “You mean the plan where I trust you to talk our way up to the CEO of a major corporation?” he asked.   “Yes, but no thanks.  I’m going with another tactic.”

“Oh, I…suppose that could work,” he agreed hesitantly.  “If you just let me know—uh, Ware?  Ware?”  He rushed to keep up as Ware took off across the courtyard with a quick stride.  “Um, Ware?” he said.  “You should really let me know what you’re planning.  It’s not a good idea to wing these things.  Corporate relations can be very delicate!”

“Keep your suit on,” Ware snapped without looking at him.  “I’ve got this.”  He paused at the front door to flick his hair out vainly, or perhaps in a parody of vanity, and then walked in with Royal trailing behind, uncertain but attempting to be supportive.

The foyer of Mumus Industries was divided into two parts—the entry, marked by a series of receptionist desks, security stations, and security checkpoints, and a more open area that led to a number of elevators and staircases.  It all had a very modern feel, outfitted with recent projector technology and minimal design, largely in shades of black and pale green.

“Oh, they really have done some updates to the interior,” Royal commented, staring around.  “Used to have a bit more furniture and they’ve redone the floor, I see.”

Ware ignored him, considering the security guard stations to the right and the receptionist desks to the left.  After a moment, he zeroed in on the youngest receptionist, a small, mousy woman in her early 20s, and put on his face to approach her.

“Hello there.”

The receptionist looked up from her computer and into the serenely smiling face of Ware.  Her jaw dropped.  She quickly took off her glasses to clean them, just to make sure she was seeing right, and began to emit a shrill, high-pitched noise.

“Ohhh my dust,” she gasped.  “By all the colors.  You’re Ware Sterling.”

Ware rolled his eyes, but only on the inside.  This part was always so predictable.  “Yes, that would be me,” he said amiably, and let the rest of the script play out.

“Oh my dust.  I can’t believe you’re here,” she gasped.  “I am a… _huge_ fan of Star Shot.  And you.  Even though you’re not technically in Star Shot anymore.  I can’t believe you’re here.  I saw you on the news the other day.  I can’t believe you were at Kaijumura.  I’d heard you were at Haven, but I could hardly believe it.  Are you okay?  Was it traumatizing?  I can’t believe you’re really here!”

Ware waited a beat to make sure she’d gotten the babbling out of her system.  Then, he said, “Always glad to meet a fan.”  He nodded around at the foyer, saying, “This is quite some business.  Do you like it here?”

“Oh, yes.  It’s the best,” the woman squealed.  “It’s wonderful here.  There’s a great benefits plan, and you know you’re doing great work for Mr. Xalbador.  Oh, and I could not believe it when I found out that Star shot was formed as part of his arts initiative.  Oh, that must be why you’re here!”

“Yes, of course,” Ware nodded.  “The arts are very important in trying times like these, and I was quite hoping to speak to Mr. Xalbador today about some ideas to help boost morale in the community.”

“Ohh,” the woman cooed, “that’s so kind of you.  I always had a feeling you were a kind person in reality.”

“Well, we all have to do our part,” Ware said, bowing his head humbly.  “Now, if you wouldn’t mind letting me through security, that would be very helpful.”

And Ware stood back, because this was typically the part in the script where he had sufficiently satisfied their fan lust, give or take an autograph or a selfie, and they were ready to open any door for him, keep any secret.

Except, she hesitated.

“Um,” she said, “did they not send you a temporary security pass when you made your appointment?”

“I don’t exactly have an appointment,” Ware said, rolling with it, “but I’m sure Mr. Xalbador would be all too happy to see me.”

The receptionist’s eyes glazed over and she pursed her lips, apparently wrestling inside with the ultimate dilemma.  Ware assumed that she, like everyone else, would come out in his corner in the end.

But here—

“Um, I’m _sorry_ , Mr. Sterling,” she said quietly, “but it’s company policy not to allow in non-employees without an appointment or a visitor’s pass.”

Ware’s ears twitched.  He frowned slightly.  That was off-script.  “Oh,” he said.  “Are you sure you couldn’t make an…exception, of sorts?  I _am_ a former employee, after all.”

Her fingers fidgeted nervously on her desk as she said, “I’m _very sorry_ , Mr. Sterling, I would love to make an exception, but we are under strict instructions at the moment.  Since the attack, we’ve had some major security concerns.  Not to mention that Mr. Xalbador has been so busy lately, I’m not sure he would be able to see you, even if I could let you through.”

Ware’s eyes narrowed as his brain whirred into motion, even as she again apologized, “I’m _really, very sorry_.”  He wasn’t sure what argument to make next.  Should he try to bribe her?  Threaten to make a scene?  Those might work, but the thought of acting like _that_ kind of celebrity made him sick to his stomach. 

But still, they _needed_ this meeting.

“Perhaps _I_ could be of assistance.”

An overwhelming aura of pale purple entered the scene as Royal swept up beside Ware, looking cool, confident, and in control.  He offered a hand to the receptionist, saying, “Greetings.  Royal Mauvello, heir to the Monarch Communication Technologies Company.  And you are?”

Tentatively, she reached out, her hand dwarfed by his, and said, “Um, it’s Elm, sir.”

“Oh, no need for formalities, Elm,” Royal chuckled.  “We’re all friends here.  You and me, myself and Ware, all of us and dear old Folly Xalbador, of course.  All excellent friends!  I’ve practically known the man my whole life, in fact!  Would you like to see a picture of him at my seventh birthday party?”

“Um—”

But Royal was already holding out his scroll, saying, “See that handsome rocking panther?  His gift to me.  My family’s been in communication with him for ages, and he’s always been an open a guest in our home, just as we are at his.  And after all, what is a business but a home with room for all your friends?”

Elm stared at him uncertainly.  Ware watched him work.  He’d never much considered Royal an expert on anything, so he was curious now to see how he handled this.

“Not to mention that we are the _furthest_ thing from a threat to your security,” Royal continued, straightening his back in a self-important manner.  “We are students of Haven.  We risked our lives on the frontline to keep not only your city, but all of Mistral safe.  If you are classifying us as a security threat, you are stating that Mumus Industries has no faith in Haven Academy as an institution.”  He tilted his head just slightly.  “You don’t mean to imply that, do you?”

“I—no!” Elm squeaked.  “Of course not!”

“Then how can you have any reason to keep us from entering this fine business?” he asked, gesturing around expansively.  “Unless it’s the company policy to ban harmless friends from visiting each other.”

“Well, um…”  She glanced back and forth between Royal and the security station.  “I’m—I’m not sure,” she murmured.

Ware glanced at Royal.  Royal caught Ware’s eye and nodded towards Elm.

Ware turned to her, his smile sweet and unassuming.  “If you could, Elm?” he asked.  “For me?”

The pair walked in silence for a moment after Elm let them through security with her keycard.  Almost as soon as they were out of earshot, Ware bowed his head and sighed, “Well, that was embarrassing.”

“Now, Ware,” Royal began, “I know you don’t always approve of my methods, but—”

“For me, I meant.”

Royal blinked and looked down at Ware in surprise.  His teammate’s ears were angled back uncomfortably as he said, “I rushed into that.  I’m used to a lot of people giving me what I want just because I’m Ware Sterling.  And because of that, I almost ruined our shot at this.”

“Oh, come now.  You really weren’t doing so badly,” Royal insisted.  “And you _did_ help pull it off in the end.”

“But again, it was only because of who I am.  You knew what to say, what buttons to push,” Ware said.  “Just like you said you did.  And I doubted you.  I’m sorry for that.”

“There is literally no need to apologize,” Royal told him.  “Believe me, we all make mistakes sometimes.  Even…even I do, on occasion.”

Ware nodded, a contemplative look in his eyes.  They stepped into an elevator together and Royal pushed the top floor’s button.  After they had risen a few floors and no one had gotten on with them, the silence between them became palpable in its intensity.

Ware sighed again and raised his head to stare at the ceiling.

“You know, I was the only faunus at my first school,” he said.

For once, Royal remained blissfully silent as he listened.

“My parents didn’t have a lot of money, but they wanted me to have better opportunities than they did,” Ware carried on.  “So they saved up and sent me to a better school than we had in our neighborhood.  And yes, maybe it did have better classes, but it also threw me in with a bunch of humans who weren’t used to having around someone with more than one pair of ears.” 

His expression darkened at the memory as he said, “People were always touching me without my permission.  Touching me and petting and pulling my ears.  Like they were some kind of novelty.  And they’re not.”  He was practically growling as he said, “They’re a part of me, just like anything else.  But no matter how many times I asked them to stop, there was always someone—someone who—”

Ware realized then that he was too tense.  Too angry.  He took a long, calming breath and let it out.

“So, that’s why I’m not such a fan of people touching me without my permission,” Ware concluded, looking up at Royal with a sparkling smile.  “Particularly my head.  I hope you understand now.”

Royal’s mouth moved mutely for a moment before he said, “O-of course, Ware!  And of course, I’m so sorry for having made you uncomfortable.  I just wish you had explained it sooner.”

“Yes, I know, I know,” Ware sighed.  “It probably would have been easier if I had.  I know I’m still not the most open person.”  He shook his head slowly.  “I know I’m not always the easiest person to know.”

“Oh, but Ware.  That’s simply not true.”

It was Ware’s turn to be taken aback as he looked up into Royal’s broad, honest smile.  Royal placed a hand on his own chest and said, “Trust me, I have known difficult people in my life and you are not one of them.  You are _exceptionally_ easy to know.”

And Ware felt that perhaps it should be reassuring, even cathartic to hear that from someone who actually knew him, even if that someone was Royal.  But for some reason, just the way Royal was looking at him was making him feel…maybe uncomfortable, maybe overwhelmed, maybe undeserving.  He just wasn’t sure.

It seemed like he had a lot of conflicting emotions these days.

He muttered a quiet thank you and continued the elevator ride in silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And for another chapter, dear Ware and Royal continue the complicated mess that is their relationship. I dunno. MAYBE they'll get it right some day :')
> 
> And I suppose that is technically the first hint at Ware's past outside of Star Shot, so that's something.


	5. Power

There were two bodyguards waiting for Royal and Ware at the top floor, dressed in identical black suits and sunglasses.  Folly Xalbador was standing in front of the bodyguards, waiting for them as well.

“Welcome, boys,” Xalbador greeted them warmly.  “I’ve been expecting you.”

Royal and Ware stared with matching expressions of shock

“Won’t you follow me?” he asked, gesturing to his right.  “My office is right down this hall, if you wouldn’t mind.”  Without waiting for their response, he turned and strode off down the hall with his short legs.  The bodyguards waited behind at the elevator for the pair to follow him, which they did after a moment’s hesitation.

With Xalbador before them and the bodyguards behind, Ware discretely leaned towards Royal and whispered, “I thought we didn’t have an appointment with him.”

“We don’t,” Royal whispered back, still sounding surprised.  “I convinced a family friend at the company to cancel his own meeting so we would have time with him, but—”

“Curious how I knew to meet you here, boys?” Xalbador called back without looking at them.  “Honestly, it was just a simple act of deduction.  Between Mr. Stem cancelling our usual science and development meeting and Mrs. Rice calling up about a pair of Haven students bargaining their way through security, it seemed fairly obvious.”

Ware eyed him suspiciously, even as Royal relaxed.  “Do you know what we’re here for then?” he asked.

Xalbador waved a hand, saying, “Oh, I have some ideas.  But why don’t we sit down first before we discuss them?  Yes, sit down and have some tea.”

The tea Xalbador had served to them in his office was excellent—or at least that was what Ware heard from Royal.  His own plain, taupe colored mug sat untouched on the table between himself and Royal, growing cold.

“You have quite the handsome office as well,” Royal told Xalbador .

Ware could quickly tell that was not only a lie, but a lie it no doubt physically _hurt_ Royal to tell.  Xalbador’s office seemed small for a CEO’s and it was more cluttered with things than it should be for a space belonging to such a wealthy man who didn’t really _need_ so many things.

Lining his left and right walls were cabinets and wardrobes carved with dark wood, the former with shelves full of kitschy-looking trinkets and memorabilia like porcelain figurines, dolls in faux-silk dresses, and parasols with abstract designs of wind and water.  In short, they were the kinds of things that tourists to Mistral walked away with in their suitcases—things reminiscent of the kingdom but not completely original and authentic.

Instead of art on his walls, which seemed to themselves be constructed from cheap wood paneling, there were framed pictures and articles about Xalbador and Mumus industries.  A number of them were simply pictures of himself shaking hands or patting backs of prominent Mistralese business people and politicians.

 _Not exactly subtle or stylish,_ Ware thought.  Just based on that, he guessed the tea wasn’t actually that good either.

“Thank you, Mr. Mauvello,” Xalbador nodded graciously, sipping his own tea behind his desk.  “I know it’s only been a few days since we last spoke, but how is your mother?  I hope she’s not been taking this all too badly.”

“She was certainly concerned by my presence at the battle,” Royal said.  “She’s always been a bit overprotective.  I actually had to downplay my role when recounting events to her to ensure that she would not rush to Mistral out of concern.”  He chuckled and said, “Believe me, I’ve caused poor Mother enough concern already since deciding on this career path of mine.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, Mr. Mauvello,” Xalbador said.  “I’m sure an energetic young man such as yourself caused enough trouble in his younger days as well.”

Royal grinned and saluted Xalbador with his cup.  “Too right,” he said.

Ware got the distinct feeling he was witnessing Royal in his element here—a world of small talk and unfunny jokes in which he was a prince.

“And you, Mr. Sterling?” Xalbador asked, turning to Ware.  “How has your family reacted to all this?”

Ware was stone cold inside as he answered with a friendly smile, “They’re fine.  They understand what I’m at Haven to do.”

“Good, good,” Xalbador nodded, appearing to consider Ware carefully.  Ware guessed he knew how much of a lie that was, but pleasantries were pleasantries nevertheless.  “And now, I assume you also mean to inquire about Miss Vermoss’s family as well,” he said, intertwining his fingers.

Ware caught Royal’s eye.  Royal nodded.  “Well, yes, Mr. Xalbador,” Ware said.  “I’m sure you can understand our confusion and concern here.  Citrine is our friend and leader, and she’s as trustworthy as anybody.  The idea that all along, her parents, who she always spoke so highly of, were criminals is somewhat hard to swallow.  We were hoping you could explain how suspicion fell on them in the first place.”

“Perhaps we could even alleviate some of that suspicion today,” Royal added helpfully.  “We _are_ great friends of the Vermosses, after all.”

“The general Vermoss family-slash-business,” Ware corrected him discretely.  Maybe Royal was in his element but that didn’t cure him of being able to glide through life completely unaware of simple facts, such as the surnames of Citrine’s parents, all of which were _not_ Vermoss.

“I understand your concern, boys,” Xalbador said, “but surely, you understand that I cannot simply share with you intimate details from an ongoing investigation concerning my company.  Even if I could, it is hardly the place of the CEO to be involved in these matters.  You would be better off talking to my head of security, Mr. Hollow.  He should be coming back to Mistral today.”

“But your head of security isn’t nearly as influential as you, Mr. Xalbador,” Ware pointed out.  “If we could convince you of Team RNBW’s innocence, you could be instrumental in seeing them freed.”

“There are a great many things I could do with my power and influence, Mr. Sterling,” he said, “but it is more complicated than that.  Imagine what sort of world we would be living in if everyone of influence went around acting on whatever whim they had.  It would be utterly disastrous!”

Ware narrowed his eyes, then adopted a much more congenial tone.  “You mean, imagine a world where wealthy boys can jump into hunting academies because they felt like it?” he asked.

Beside him, Royal coughed uncomfortably.  “Now Ware, that’s a bit—”

“Or a world where wealthy men can destroy the ecosystem of an entire kingdom because they wanted a wider profit margin?” he carried on carelessly.  “Or a world where wealthy men can simply build entire cities because it was their dream?”  Ware tilted his head playfully and said, “Are you asking me to imagine such a world, or simply to look at the one in which we live?”

Stunned, Royal stared back and forth between Ware and Xalbador.

Xalbador himself, who had only seemed partially invested in the conversation, suddenly seemed much more present.  He stopped leaning back in his chair so casually, stopped clasping his hand so placidly.  He gave Ware his full attention.

“Supposing this is our own Remnant, in which the whims of powerful people can have dire consequences, then I think it’s only reasonable to mention that I, too, am a powerful person,” Ware said.  His face was a mask of amiability, but his aura had chilled the emotion in the office.  Inside, he was slightly terrified.  “Perhaps not as powerful as I was a few months ago, but powerful enough.  Perhaps even powerful in a different way, now that I have been very publicly involved in a certain high-profile incident at Kaijumura.”

Xalbador’s eyes narrowed.  Royal quickly began to insist, “I’m sure there’s absolutely no need to bring all that into—”

“Mr. Xalbador, I nearly _died_ defending your city,” Ware said bluntly.  “My partner, Royal, the girl whose parents your company is helping to prosecute—all of us were endangered.  You had children on the frontlines to defend yourself and Kaijumura, and when the smoke cleared, I had some very persistent reporters asking some very big questions.  ‘How could this have happened?’  ‘Was there a failure in Kaijumura’s systems?’  ‘Did I think Kaijumura was safe to live in?’”  Ware left a dramatic pause, and then remembered to smile.  “And of course, I told them I still believe in Kaijumura, as a kindness from one powerful person to another.  I was just hoping that today, you could offer me that same kindness.”

Ware decided to leave the actual threat out.  He thought it sounded nicer that way.

Fingers pressed against his lips, the only thing preventing Royal from chewing his nails off to cope with the tension in the room was knowledge that his manicurist was out of town and would not be able to manage the damage for several days.

For a second, as he considered his options, a dark look flashed across Xalbador’s face.  Ware thought he recognized it from so many nights touring and performing, from so many public interviews, as the look of someone who had not been expecting to be outsmarted by the dumb Faunus and was now weighing whether they hated him or themselves for that more.

Or at least, that was what Ware thought it was for the second before Xalbador beamed broadly and tapped a button on his keyboard.  A holo-screen sprung up from his desk, projecting face of a middle-aged woman.

The woman looked up from her own work at what must have been a screen of Xalbador’s face appearing before her real-world location.  “Yes, Mr. Xalbador?” she asked.

“Ah, hello, Mrs. Thatch,” Xalbador greeted her.  “Could you kindly bring up a scroll with all information on file relating to the Kaijumura case?”

“Yes, Mr. Xalbador,” Mrs. Thatch said.  “I’ll have that up in a few minutes.”

“Excellent.  Thank you.”  He tapped the button again and the screen disappeared, leaving him to turn his full attention back to his guests.  “My boys, if you wanted me to repay my debt for defending my city, you should have simply said so,” he said in an expansive, friendly voice.  “I feel I certainly owe you more than this small amount of information I possess, but if this is what you wish, I would be more than happy to oblige.  I would have even agreed to it sooner if I had assumed, but—oho, Mr. Mauvello, I’m sure you understand this game of favors.”

Royal laughed breathily as if he had spent the past few minutes forgetting to exhale.  “Too right,” he said.  “People cling to favors forever, neglecting to ask for what they desire, as if they believe they should hoard it for only the direst situations.”  He gestured towards Ware, adding, “And I apologize if my friend here said anything too gauche in asking for this favor.  He is not quite so socially cultured as you and I.”

Feeling a tinge of annoyance at Royal, he almost took a jab at him, but stopped himself.  They weren’t out of the wood yet, and he probably should try to behave now.

Besides, hadn’t Citrine already done the same to protect _his_ image?  If she could play wildcard for him, he could play uncultured for her.

“No offense taken, Mr. Mauvello,” Xalbador said.  “So long as Mr. Sterling understands that Kaijumura was no mere whim of mine.”

“Of course," Ware nodded, thinking the conversation was taking on a more naturally friendly tone.  “I only meant—”

“That powerful people can have a powerful impact, yes,” Xalbador cut him off.  “And I hope you understand that I have always meant to use my power in service of a greater good.  I founded Mumus Industries as a way to provide reliable materials and methods to the people of Mistral in defending themselves against the numerous threats of this world.  Kaijumura is the culmination of that effort, my greatest gift to the defense of the kingdom.  Because that has always been my goal—to keep the kingdom of Mistral safe.”

Silence fell in the office as Xalbador pushed himself out of his chair and walked over to face out of his small window.

“I must admit, boys,” Xalbador said to the window overlooking Mistral’s financial district, one of the most modern areas of the kingdom, “this perhaps has something to do with why I felt so… _hesitant_ to offer my assistance in this matter.  Because if the members of Team RNBW truly are innocent, then there is nothing I would like more than to see them swiftly released and have the real criminals brought to justice.”  His shoulders squared up as he said in a grave tone, “But if I have any reason to believe they are, in fact, responsible for this disaster, that those so-called hunters conspired against my city, against _my kingdom_ —”  Xalbador seemed to swell in sized with his rage as he blustered, “Then I will stop at _nothing_ to see them punished to the fullest extent of the law.  I will see them _hanged_.”

Ware raised his eyebrows in the uncomfortable silence.  For once, he was grateful for Royal’s inexhaustible mouth.  “Too right,” Royal nodded in overeager agreement.  “Thankfully, we have full confidence that Team RNBW are no such types.  No, um, hanging required.”

Xalbador turned and was smiling as if he had never stopped.  “Well, that _is_ reassuring, Mr. Mauvello.  I trust your judgment.”

The door to the office opened and Mrs. Thatch stepped in.  “That scroll you wanted, sir,” she said. 

“Yes, if you could hand it to my guest?” Xalbador said, gesturing to Royal as he walked around his desk.

The pair rose to their feet as Royal accepted the device.  “Ah, a Monarch scroll,” he commented, noting the logo on the scroll that matched the small emblem he usually wore on his own left breast pocket.  “Excellent choice, sir.”

“It’s some of the only technology outside of my own that I would swear by,” Xalbador said.

It was still hard for Ware to believe they had come back to the small talk so quickly after the rounds of half-threats.  Still, just like Royal, he lined up to shake the man’s hand, thank him for his time, and apologize for any inconvenience they might have caused him.

“Really, it was hardly any trouble,” Xalbador insisted.  “I don’t mind the occasional visit from a friend.  Keeps me fresh, keeps me on my toes.  However, for any future visits, I would ask you to keep in mind that there has been an increased concern for potential security threats since Kaijumura.”  Xalbador gave them a kindly pat on the back as he saw them out of the office.  “You might not be greeted so kindly next time.”

Then, they were out of the office, the door shut behind them.  Ware and Royal exchanged an almost stunned look, staring at each other, at the scroll, then at the security guards standing on either side of the door.

“Er, have a lovely day, gentlemen,” Royal told them before he and Ware took off down the hall.  Their exit was at a slow walk at first, but the further they got from the office, the faster they went.  By the time they reached the elevator, they were practically sprinting.  Even then, Royal was unable to help but press the down button multiple times in hopes of bringing the lift up to them faster.

The elevator arrived.  Its doors slid open.

Ware and Royal stepped in.  Its doors slid shut.

Royal pressed the button for the ground floor, then let out a tremendous breath, as if he’d gone his whole life without letting it out.  Clutching his chest, he gasped, “That was the most terrifying—yet oddly thrilling—experience of my life!  I never in my wildest _dreams_ imagined I would ever bandy words with Folly Xalbador over such a matter.  He could have had us ejected from this building at any moment.  And Ware, you were utterly tactless, but utterly fearless all the same.  And utterly brilliant!  Ware, you—Ware?” 

He paused when he took note of Ware’s own violent physical reaction to what had just occurred.  His teammate was shaking, bent over, his hand clasped over his mouth.  “Oh, Ware!” Royal cried out, his eyes widening with concern.  “It’s fine now!  We were successful!  We have the scroll!  We—”

It was then that Royal moved around and finally got a good look at Ware’s face.  It was then he realized the small squeaks he was emitting were not anxious sobs.  His eyes were squeezed shut, but even behind his hand, Ware’s expression was clear.  Ware was _smiling_ , _genuinely_ , and he was shaking so hard because he was trying to suppress his laughter.

Ware pulled his hand away long enough to squeak out in-between giggles, “I can’t—I can’t believe that actually worked!  That was—”  He lost it completely, dissolving into a fit of bubbling laughter. 

It came over Royal slowly, the ecstatic elation of the situation, the feeling of blessing that he could be present for such a rare event, for such a soaring, triumphant moment.  But as it overtook him, he found himself giddy and giggling as well, and once again thanking any possible gods that could have been involved in bringing this moment to fruition.  It was a wonderful day after all.

“You are an utter madman, Ware,” Royal told him.  “Utterly mad and utterly brilliant, in every sense of the word.”

Ware sighed heavily as she tried to settle his laughter.  “Thanks,” he said, giving Royal a sidelong smile.  He put a hand on Royal’s shoulder and said, “And I suppose you’re not so bad to have on my team after all.”

It seemed like Atlas was shining all its light on him.  And it seemed like the perfect moment to confess.  As their elevator ticked down to the ground floor, Royal took a breath in, preparing to tell Ware everything—that he believed that Ware was the most incredible boy he knew aside from himself and that they could be the utterly perfect couple together.

Then Ware’s scroll began to ring.

Royal began fidgeting with his hands as Ware pulled the device out.  He checked the caller ID before reporting, with some confusion, “It’s Torque.”

Distractedly, Royal joked, “I didn’t know Torque knew how to use her scroll to call.”

“Hush,” Ware snapped, then put the scroll on speaker.  “Torque, what’s going on?” he asked.

Torque’s voice came out flat and tense.  “Are you done with Xalbador yet?” she asked.

“Incredibly done!” Royal exclaimed proudly.  “And you would not believe what we went through to—”

“Don’t care,” Torque said.  “I’m tied to my computer.  You need to get downtown.”

“What?  Why?” Ware asked.

“Because Citrine’s there,” Torque said.  “I got a news alert that her parents arrived in Mistral and she ran off to meet them.  She’s probably at Haven Penitentiary now.”

“Oh, dear,” Royal gasped.

“And she’s there with Skull,” Torque added.

“Oh, shit,” Ware hissed.  Whether Citrine and Skull were playing friends or enemies at the moment, putting those two powder kegs together so close to a spark was not a good idea.

“Please, guys,” Torque said, “don’t let her do anything too dumb.”

“We’re on it, Torque,” Ware said, then snapped his scroll shut.

The elevator door slid open and the pair took off at a run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [bastille voice] Poweeeeeeer  
> Poweeeeeerrrrrr  
> I will never understand the power you were holding over me
> 
> On today's chapter, Ware really gets a kick out of pushing people's buttons.


	6. Family, and All That Entails

Mistral Penitentiary was closer to Haven than Citrine had thought.  It was closer than she would’ve liked to imagine.  Shee didn’t like the concept of prisons at all—thousands of people packed together in a contained space at a loss for freedom—and she had tried to imagine that the housing for Mistral’s many criminals was somehow far removed from the kingdom itself.  Perhaps an isolated facility out in the mountains where no one could accidentally reach them.

But logistically speaking, Citrine knew that didn’t make sense.  They still needed to be somewhere easily accessible for changes of guards, food supplies, and spare parts and technicians who maintained the special fields that kept prisoners with semblances in line.

Still, she had hoped it wasn’t this close.  She had hoped it would be farther than Skull reporting to her, “It’s just around this corner," just after a few minutes’ sprint from the airbus station.

Citrine could see it looming up before they even took the corner—a building 5 stories tall that looked like it had been patchworked and added onto over decades.  The first two floors looked sloppily constructed with muddy-looking concrete while the floors above it were smoother and more angular, but were beginning to show their age with cracks in the plaster.  The fence, meanwhile, which ran around the entire facility, looked intensely tough and state of the art.

Also, the Vermoss Hunting Commune was parked in front of it with all their wagons and tents and horses arranged for encampment mode.  Peppa and Salina were even setting up their cook pots in the middle of the road.

Citrine stopped abruptly.  Skull would’ve run straight into her if he didn’t phase through her back.  Skidding to a stop, he glared back at her and snapped, “What’re you doing?  We canget through those chumps in no time.  They don’t look that tough.”

Staring ahead, Citrine murmured, “Those aren’t enemies.  That’s my family.”  Dazedly, she began to walk forward and for a moment, everything else fell away.  Citrine had begun to think Haven was making her more independent; that as a leader, she wouldn’t fall back into the steps she had walked as a child.  However, there was something familiar about walking down the street to the commune, like coming home after an exhausting night spent surviving alone in the wilderness.  There was something familiar and something comfortable, and Citrine had to admit, despite the turmoil of the situation, it felt good to be coming home.

With her back turned to her, Chrys Anthem seemed to have taken charge of the camp and was calling out instructions as Citrine approached.  “Copper, do not get your anvil out.  We do not need the forge right now,” Chrys said.

Citrine tapped her on the shoulder.

Chrys shooed her had away without turning to see who she was.  “Salm, I want a full inventory on our provisions,” she said.  “We could be in for the long haul here and we need to be prepared.”

Citrine tapped her shoulder again.

“Not now, I’m busy,” Chrys snapped, again without looking back.  “And Thea, make sure those shields are working again.  There’s no telling what kinds of monsters will be in Mistral at night.”

Rolling her eyes, Citrine put a hand on the tiny woman’s shoulder and spun her around.  Chrys reacted defensively at first, snapping, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Then, she saw who it was and her eyes lit up with joy and disbelief.

“Citrine?” she gasped.  Chrys threw her arms around her in as tight a hug as she could manage, then looked her up and down, saying, “Just look at you!  What’re you doing here?  Right, you live here.  But look how big you are!  Everyone, come look!  Citrine’s here!”

Work in the camp skidded to a halt at Chrys’s call and suddenly, Citrine was overtaken by a crowd of familiar faces, voices, and hands as the non-hunters of the commune crowded around her with greetings and hugs and head pats and comments and questions.

“What’ve you been up to?  How’s Haven treating you?” Salm asked.

“You don’t call enough,” Salina chided her.  “They can’t be keeping you too busy for a call.”

“Citrine, how could you?” Cali cried out, pulling at the sleeve of her jacket.  “I’ve been offering to design you an emblem for years and you just let some stranger do it for you?”

“You look so tall!” Peppa said.  “Growing like a weed.”

“You look tired,” Chrys said.  “Are you staying up all night?  My mother always said nothing worse for the health than living in the city.”

And Citrine was too overwhelmed by the love from her family to do anything other than smile and laugh and eventually say, “I missed you all so much.”  She rubbed her own cheek abashedly and said, “It’s been…it’s been a long couple of months.”

There was a loud, hacking coughing noise behind her.  A more polite person might’ve just gone with an, “Ahem,” but as Citrine saw when she turned around and found Skull waiting impatiently, she knew a more polite person this was not.  However, even Skull’s sour look and bad manners couldn’t dampen Citrine’s mood or the smile on her face.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded, gesturing at the gathered crowd.  “Some kind of traveling trade center?”

“No, Skull!” Citrine exclaimed.  “This is my family!”

Skull’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the mismatched collection of skin, hair, and eye colors, heights, face shapes, and all other physical qualities possessed by the members of the commune, particularly noting how few of them matched Citrine’s own qualities.  “Huh?” he grunted.

“They raised me,” she explained.  “The whole commune basically adopted me when I was a baby, so they’re all like, my parents.”

“I mean, maybe not _all_ parents,” Golding interjected half-jokingly.  “I’m only 15 years older than you.  That’s older brother territory, right?”

“You taught her how to ride horses, you’re as much her parent as the rest of us,” Thea snapped.

“No, he’s always been too busy with his horse-children for that,” Saffron joked, grabbing Golding’s shoulder.

There was some laughter among the crowd, including some from Citrine herself.  Skull seemed more confused than ever. 

“Look, it’s easy,” Citrine said, walking over to stand beside him.  She began to point out the members of the commune one-by-one, saying, “That’s Chrys, she’s the medic, but don’t think that means she’ll be nice to you just because you’re hurt.  That’s Thea, our carpenter.  She keeps our wagons running and keeps Golding—that’s him there—from running his mouth at the horses all day.  That’s Cali, she mends our clothes—though I’m sure she wishes she had to mend mine a little less—and that’s her husband, Copper.  He doesn’t say much, but—”

“Citrine, why don’t you just introduce your friend to us?” Thea suggested helpfully.  “It might take some time to run through the list otherwise.”

“Oh.  Sure,” Citrine snorted.  “Everyone, this is Skull.  He’s my…”  Her voice trailed off as she glanced at Skull, who was giving her the stink-eye as if to imply that she should choose her next words very carefully.  “Classmate?”  He didn’t seem any more appeased by that, so she tried again.  “Um, antagonist?”  She shrugged and laughed, “I don’t know, he’s just picky about labels.”

Skull scowled more deeply and said, “How about, guy who’s not interested in all this weird family crap?”

“Whose family you callin’ weird?” Thea called out immediately.

“Wait, Skull?” Golding echoed accusatorily.  “Isn’t this the guy who was bullying you?”  He and Salm began edging towards him threateningly.  Skull immediately turned intangible and phased through Citrine to stand on the other side of her.

“I didn’t _bully_ your kid,” Skull snapped.  “All I did was tell her that she and her loser friends were too weak and pathetic to be at Haven and that she should just give up on being a shitty leader.”  When he caught the stern looks on the commune members’ faces, he actually faltered slightly.  “Only because it was true,” he insisted to them as Copper crossed his burly arms.  “And I stopped as soon as she stopped being so sucky.”  Thea tapped the 2x4 she was holding against her leg and Salina began to wipe her butcher’s knife on her apron.  “Hey Sunshine, you mind calling off your damn dogs?” Skull demanded, beginning to edge away again.

Citrine giggled.  “I don’t know, Skull.  I kind of like the look of ‘intimidated’ on you,” she joked.

“ _I am not—_ ”

“And guys, he’s fine now.  Really!” she told her family.  “Mostly.  He’s a lot better than he used to be, at least.  And even if he wasn’t, it’d still be just my job to beat him up because he’s my—my—”  She snapped her fingers until at last it came to her.  “Rival!” Citrine exclaimed, eyes lighting up.  “Skull, that’s it!  We’re _rivals!_   Isn’t that the perfect word for us?  We can save so much time on terminology now!”

Skull snorted.  “It took you this long to figure it out?” he asked.  “Of course that’s what we are.”  Although Skull himself hadn’t put a word to it yet, and as a result, he had almost— _almost_ —resigned himself to the term “friend,” if only because it saved time.

If Citrine could have held onto this moment for any longer, she would have.  Looking around at the sea of familiar faces and at the boy she too had begun to consider her friend, she knew that if she could have let herself guiltlessly sink into this moment for hours and hours, she would have.  Unfortunately, she knew that wasn’t what she had come here for.

Allowing the smile to slide from her face, Citrine looked around at the rest of the commune and said, “Guys, where _is_ Team RNBW?  What happened to them?  Why are you all here?”

There was a similar slide of the mood as the rest of the commune members were reminded of their situation.  Chrys’s expression hardened as she called to the other senior members of the commune.  “Thea, Cali, Copper, you stay here and talk.  The rest of you, back to work.  We’ve already dawdled enough.”

Although there were some grumblings, everyone did as they were told.  They weren’t members of the commune for a lack of pragmatism, after all.  As soon as the rest of them were gone, Chrys and the other senior members circled in closer to Citrine and Skull and began to speak in lowered voices.

“Truth be told, missy,” Thea began, “we were hoping you might be able to explain some of this.”

“Me?” Citrine echoed, more than a little disappointed to hear this.  She’d been hoping the same of the commune--that someone out there would have more answers and be able to do something about this.  “I hardly know anything about all this,” she said.  “I know that there was an attack on Kaijumura and I know that Team RNBW is being blamed for it and I know...some of the ‘evidence’ against them, but that’s about it.” 

“It seems you know more than we do then,” Cali said thoughtfully.  “We were out in the wilds while the attack apparently occurred and we only learned of it when the hunters came to arrest them.”

“Hunters?” Citrine echoed.  “What hunters?  What happened?  Did they fight them?”

“We all say they should’ve,” Thea said.  “Three of them, four of Team RNBW, they could’ve taken ‘em in a fair fight.  But one of those hunters was a damn cowardly bastard who started threatenin’ us when it looked like they might not cooperate.”

“What?” Citrine shouted, clenching her fists.  “Who was it?  Who the hell was it?  I’ll fight them myself!”

“Some creep in black and orange with a messed up eye,” Thea said.  “Name of Abraham.”

Citrine’s eyes narrowed.  “Hollow,” she hissed.  “He’s the head of security for Mumus Industries.  I knew there was something off about him.”

“Must be a real scumbag if he’s pulling tactics like that,” Skull muttered.  When he caught Citrine giving him a surprised look, he scowled, saying, “What?  I may be an asshole, but I have standards.”

“And there were two others along with him,” Cali added.  “A rabbit faunus and a woman with a shepherd’s crook.”

“Wait, you mean, Bluebell and North helped that guy?” Citrine asked. 

 _But...I thought they were cool,_ she thought, feeling disheartened.

“They escorted us to Haven and most of what we learned about the situation, we learned from them,” Cali said.  “They told us what happened to you and your friends in Kaijumura and they told us that Team RNBW are currently the prime suspects for the time crimes committed there.  We haven’t been told much of the specific evidence against them, however, so this all still seems very suspect to us.”

“Yes, right?” Citrine agreed eagerly.  “I know a little of the ‘evidence’ against them, but it all just seems too weird to be true.  I mean, you guys never saw them doing anything weird over the past few months, right?”

“Of course not,” Chrys replied snappishly.  Her eyes narrowed as she said, “The thought of those four meatheads plotting anything, let alone an attack on a major city, is preposterous.”

Thea and Cali nodded in agreement, but Citrine couldn’t help but notice the doubt in Copper’s eyes.  “Copper?” she asked.

Copper shifted uneasily as he often did when receiving attention, but slowly, glancing aside, he admitted, “They...have been different the past few weeks.”  He thought a moment, then decided, “They’ve been quiet.  Keeping something amongst themselves.”

“Well, I didn’t notice anything,” Chrys said defensively.

Placing a hand on her husband’s shoulder, Cali said, “You know Copper catches things the rest of us miss.  If he says they were acting strange, then I believe they were.”

Unfortunately, Citrine found herself agreeing with the couple.  What Copper lacked in the gift of gab, he more than made up for with watchfulness.  He was always the first to catch both potential thieves when the commune set up in populated areas and potential emotional breakdowns from stressed commune members.  If he felt strongly enough to speak up about it, then Citrine knew he must have seen something.

Besides, she was hardly in the position to naysay him, regardless of what she felt.  She’d only called home a handful of times since she left for school.  If Team RNBW had been up to anything, then she hardly could have had the chance…

Her thoughts trailed off and her expression became stony as something else entered her brain--a memory of something she’d experienced when she was feeling too distressed and self-pitying to take notice of but was still lodged in her mind.  It was a memory of Warbler telling her, “We’ve actually got some big news to tell you!” followed by Robin cutting him off with a, “I thought we weren’t telling her that yet,” and then an argument about what the harm could be.  It was something that had seemed so insignificant at the time, but the fact was, Robin had seemed to think it was something best kept secret and Citrine had never found out what it was.

Citrine felt as though her insides were flooding with ice water, as against all her will, she thought, what if Team RNBW… _had_ been planning something? 

“Sunshine.”

Skull’s voice jolted her back to the moment and she noticed him staring at the prison gates.  She followed his gaze as the gates began to rattle open, revealing half a dozen guards in dark blue uniforms, all armed with stun batons.  More importantly, standing at the center of their group was Abraham Hollow, smiling out at all of them serenely with his hands folded behind his back.

Citrine bristled and immediately pulled out Harbinger in its passive form.  This man had always unsettled her, but now knowing he had been involved in her parents’ arrest made her even more unwilling to give him the benefit of the doubt.  If he made one wrong move, she would be ready.

“Ah, my dear Vermoss Hunting Commune,” Hollow addressed the gathered group. all of whom were glaring daggers at him.  “Good to see you all again.”

“Get bent, you slimy, gutted pumpkin!” Salina shouted at him to the approval of her companions.

Hollow, apparently unfazed by the insult, continued on, “You should know that the members of Team RNBW have successfully been processed and settled into private cells.  While this may not be the most comforting news, I at least hope you find it reassuring to hear that the process was quick and painless and they were treated with the utmost respect for their position.”

“You’ve got a funny idea of respect, if this is how you respect people,” Golding called out.

“Why don’t you respect them by letting them go?” Saffron demanded.  “They haven’t done a single thing you’ve accused them of!”

“People, people, please,” Hollow said as murmurs of dissent rose among the crowd.  “Surely, you understand I’m in no position to do such a thing, and even if I was, it is not my business to determine their guilt.  I am _only_ the messenger.”

“They’re not guilty of anything!” Saffron repeated.  “Let them go!”

“Let them go!” Peppa and Salina echoed.  The cry was soon taken up by others in the commune, till there were ten people chanting the words, stomping their feet and beating their tools together in time to make as much noise as possible. 

Though she would have loved to join them, Citrine didn’t allow herself to.  She was too busy watching the hands of those guards as they inched towards their batons.

Looking around at them evenly, Hollow spoke again, raising his voice in volume alone, with no increase in emotion.  “And speaking as the messenger,” he continued on, “I have been informed by the warden of this prison that you are not allowed to make camp on this particular piece of property, as it interferes with the security measures and procedures in place.  He has offered to allow you to relocate before it becomes necessary to take further action for the safety of—”

One of Salm’s apples flew at his face.  Hollow caught it easily, then shook his head in disappointment.  “Oh, I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” he sighed.  “I hope you’ll forgive these people for simply doing their job.”

The two guards on either side of Hollow began to move towards the crowd, but before they could take three steps forward, a yellow streak flew out in front of them.  Citrine flew into the scene, kicking one of them in the side and knocking him over immediately before battering the second one over with the pole of Harbinger.  The next two guards to Hollow’s right drew their batons and charged at her, but Citrine sliced both their weapons in half with her axe before using it to vault herself over them and onto the lawn behind them.  She drained the life from the grass with one swipe and blasted it at the backs of their heads.  As they crumbled forward, she took another swipe of the grass and aimed the energy glowing in her palm up at Hollow’s own face.

“Don’t even _think_ of hurting my family,” she growled in a low, threatening tone.  “Not any more than you already have.”

As she faced off against the head of security for an industrial titan, a man who so far, she had seen and understood only to be cool and callous, Citrine was surprised to see a break in the complete confidence in his expression.  He seemed to be staring back and forth between her face and her glowing palm, and the longer he stared, the more his eyes narrowed.  Even his lip appeared to curl up in disgust.  Citrine wasn’t quite sure what to make of this response, particularly when she’d been expecting a brutal and punishing attack from him instead, but with the remaining guards already arming their stun batons behind him, she knew she didn’t have time to worry about it.

“Why don’t you put those toys away before you get yourselves hurt?”

The guards looked around and jumped in surprise as Skull suddenly sauntered through them.  He stepped out on the other side of Hollow and took his place beside Citrine with a cocky grin on his face as he drawled, “Seriously, what do you think you’re even doing here?  We’re _hunters._ ”  He snapped out Charnel Yield to its weapon form.  “ _Way_ above your pathetic paygrade.”

For once, Citrine was grateful for Skull’s mockery as the guards exchanged a glance behind Hollow’s back and backed down a fraction.  Hollow himself seemed to have regained his composure as he said, “You are _student_ hunters.  _Children_.  I have no idea why you are even here, because there is clearly nothing you can do here to affect any sort of positive change.”

“I’m here because you’re threatening my family,” Citrine snapped.  “And you and your cronies can try that again over my dead body.”

“Your—oh, Miss Vermoss.”  Hollow rubbed his forehead in exasperation.  “You’re just being _silly_ now.  All we were sent here to do was escort these wagons further away from the main gates of these premises.  This is where new prisoners are brought in for intake, you know, and it could endanger both guards and your family for them to be brought in through this rowdy crowd.”

“Bullshit,” Citrine said.

“Because clearly, _stun batons_ are always the sign of a peaceful escort,” Skull quipped.

“They only drew those weapons to defend themselves because, as you yourselves pointed out, they were faced with overpowered enemies,” Hollow stated.  “Now, if you wouldn’t mind kindly assisting your family in packing up their belongings and—”

Citrine fired off her blast of energy right past Hollow’s left ear and right up into the sky and for a moment, the look in his white eye was stunned and incredulous.  “We’re not going anywhere,” she said.  “We’re staying right here until we get Team RNBW back.  So you can take your little stun batons and—”  Citrine’s sentence cut off with a pained yell as Hollow smashed a heavy hand over the top of her head and held her in an iron grip.  With enough pressure on it to make her feel like her skull was about to cave in, Citrine dropped her weapon and gripped Hollow’s wrist.  She tried desperately to push him away, but it felt as though she was trying to push away a steel beam.

She felt the grip tighten on her head.  She heard members of the commune scream out to let her go.  She felt Skull’s grip on her arm. 

Then she heard the call again—but different.

“Excuse me Mr. Hollow, but could you please be so kind as to release my teammate?  _Thank you._ ”

Hollow’s hand pulled away from her immediately.  Citrine stumbled, her head spinning severely, but Skull was already supporting her with one hand and deigned to lend another to prevent her from falling over.  When she opened her eyes again, Citrine thought she might have been seeing things, because striding across the camp towards her appeared to be Royal and Ware in some exceptionally fancy suits.  However, as they drew closer, it became harder for her to believe they were some kind of hallucination.

“Guys?” Citrine asked uncertainly as they joined the party.  “What are you doing here?”

“Being teammates of the year is what,” Ware told her with a wink as he and Royal squared up defensively between her and Hollow.  “We’ve been working on our own teamwork a bit today as well.  Why don’t you let us see how well we can handle this?”

Although still a little taken aback by this turn of events, Citrine nodded mutely and let her teammates take the lead.

“Mr. Hollow, so good to see you again,” Royal told a slightly flustered-looking Hollow in a heavily honeyed voice.  “I’m sure you remember us, but just for refreshers, I’m Royal Mauvello, heir to the Monarch Communications Technology Company, and this is my teammate, Ware Sterling—”

“Extremely famous former pop star,” Ware supplied helpfully.

“Yes, _extremely_ ,” Royal nodded.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Hollow said brusquely.  “I hope you understand that just now, I was doing my best to manage a rapidly escalating situation, which your teammate was doing nothing to help—”

“Oh, that is bull—”

“Now, now, Citrine, I’m sure the man has some point,” Royal chided her gently.  “You can lose your temper sometimes.  But I’m sure you would never cause any kind of problem, like fighting prison guards on their own grounds.  Right, Ware?”

“Oh, certainly,” Ware agreed.  “Just like I’m sure Mr. Hollow would never do anything like attack a Haven Academy student on the property of a kingdom-owned institution.”

Hollow was silent for a moment and Citrine felt almost equally taken aback.  _Had_ she fallen into some kind of bizarro dream?  She’d never seen Royal and Ware work together this cohesively before, but as it turned out, when they combined Royal’s well-trained manners with Ware’s mockingly polite snark, they made for a surprisingly effective pair.

“It’s as the two of you say,” Hollow nodded at last.  “No damage caused here that needs to be contested any further.  However, the prison _would_ appreciate it if this band could at least most their wagons farther down the street and away from the main gates.”

“Yes, of course, I’m sure we can negotiate a situation to have everyone’s needs met,” Royal nodded.  “We can move our wagons—”

“And since you seem so eager to take care of these small matters for the prison, you can arrange for our friend to visit her parents you just had jailed,” Ware added.

Citrine’s heart leapt at the suggestion, though she tried not to let it show as she eagerly looked back and forth between Hollow and her teammates.

“I’m very sorry, but that is beyond my station here,” Hollow said.  “I was only responsible for bringing Team RNBW in.  I have no other business here.”

Ware narrowed his eyes a fraction at the prison guards flanking him.  “Apparently,” he commented in a less friendly tone.

“It’s fine, I’m certain we can sort that out on our own at a later juncture,” Royal said.  “But Mr. Hollow, perhaps you can at least confirm that their lawyer was able to meet them as they were admitted?”

“Their lawyer?” Hollow echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, their lawyer, the indomitable Crim Zahn,” Royal explained.  “Very imposing woman, scarily competent.  She’s worked closely with my family for decades now.  She agreed to wait at the prison in order to meet Team RNBW as they arrived.”

“Oh yes, of course.  Ms. Zahn.  I’ve heard of her,” Hollow said.  “I’m sorry to have to inform you of this, since you seem to have so much faith in her, but as I understand it, she’s quit the case.”

That nearly stopped Royal in his tracks.  “I’m sorry, but…what?” he asked in disbelief.  “She quit?  That can’t be.  She would never.”

“I assure you, Mr. Xalbador received the notification from his own legal team this morning,” Hollow said.  “At the very least, she was not here to meet Team RNBW, so it seems they’ll be needing new legal representation soon.”

There was something that seemed almost gleeful about his delivery of this news, something that made Citrine want to give him a black eye to go with his white one.  She almost moved forward to take a swing at him until she noticed that Skull was still holding onto her arm.

“Well, if that’s all you have to say, I suppose we have no further business with you, Mr. Hollow,” Ware said, giving the man a friendly smile.  “Why don’t you hurry along back to Mumus Industries?  And tell Mr. Xalbador we said ‘hi,’ won’t you?”

“Of course,” Hollow nodded.  “And hopefully, we have no more reason to cross paths until the trial.”  He turned and walked away then, with everyone in the commune giving his exit a wide berth.

Although tense over her situation, Citrine still felt some relief to see the back of him.  That relief was practically squeezed out of her as Royal suddenly spun and picked her up in a bone crushingly tight hug.

“Oh, Citrine, I’ve had the most dreadful, frightful day!” Royal cried out hugging her close to his chest.  “And I don’t care if you’re still on the warpath like a furious, vengeful beast.  It is _still_ some small consolation to see you alive and well now!”

“Uh, that’s great,” Citrine wheezed, “but can we not be crushing me for one minute?”

“Oh, yes.  Of course.”  He set her down much more gently, but still continued to stare with fretfully fidgety hands.  Apparently, his “coolness” that she’d seen in that confrontation had a clock on it and that clock had run down.  She glanced at Ware as well, running a hand through his hair in a stressed manner.

“You okay?” she asked.

Ware caught her eye and stopped messing with his hair, giving her a tired smile instead.  “It’s like Royal said.  It’s been a long day,” he said.  “What about you?  You seem less…”

“Bitter, violent, and vengeful?” Royal supplied.

“I was going to say angry, but sure.”

Citrine laughed, something that came as a relief to both of them.  “Yeah, sorry about that,” she said.  “But I am feeling better now.  Me and him worked some things out,” she added, gesturing between herself and Skull.

Ware glanced at Skull, who had been sulking silently since the confrontation began, and raised his eyebrows playfully.  “Oh, you _did_ , did you?”

“Shut it, Star-boy,” Skull snapped at him instantly.  “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“I would never dream of implying that it did,” Ware replied with a sly grin to Skull’s further frustration.

“Alright guys, we can all make fun of Skull later,” Citrine told them.  “Right now, we’ve got other stuff to deal with, like—oh, hey Chrys!”  She perked up Chrys and Thea approached them, saying, “Guys, these are two of my teammates, Royal and Ware.  I’m their leader, even if they don’t act like it much.”

Thea gave them a warm smile, but Chrys only nodded to Citrine, saying, “As far as I can tell, you’re doing alright as a leader.  I’d never seen you fight so well before.”

Citrine blushed, saying, “Well, I have been practicing.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Chrys,” Royal said, offering a hand down to the tiny woman, “I’m sure you’ve already heard much about me from your daughter, but I am Royal Mauv—”

“We’re going to start moving the wagons down the street,” Chrys told Citrine.  “No sense in pissing off those guards anymore on pride alone.”

Citrine sighed, admitting, “Yeah, probably not,” despite her own pride insisting that now, they needed to stand their ground on principle alone.  “I can give you a hand packing up in a minute,” she volunteered.  “I think I still remember where everything goes.”

“That’s a good girl,” Thea nodded, and the two women headed off to help the rest of the commune.

“Would you like us to assist you, Citrine?” Royal volunteered gallantly.  “Extra hands should make the work go that much quicker.”

“Even if they’re _your_ hands?” Ware joked, apparently back in his usual, Royal-mocking form.

“Then afterwards, we can head back to Haven!” he exclaimed.  “We have so much to discuss, Citrine.  Ware and I had a fabulous adventure all our own at Mumus Industries today, meeting with old Folly Xalbador and boy…”

Citrine began to zone out his words as she glanced back at the rest of the commune.  After all that, there was something weary about all of them, a slowness in the way they moved that tugged at her heart.  These were her people, powerless and alone in a strange land.  They’d lost their protectors and their leaders, and were facing all kinds of doubts for their futures.  That was also to say nothing of Team RNBW themselves, locked away with a mound of evidence facing them down.  They all needed _something_ in their favor right now.  They needed…

Realizing Royal had stopped speaking and was looking at her expectantly, Citrine slowly shook her head and said, “I’m sorry, guys.  I’m staying here tonight.”

Ware raised his eyebrows in surprise.  “What?” Royal gasped.  “But Citrine, we have so much to discuss!  So much to catch up on!  And how can you simply sleep out here on the—the filthy streets?  And right outside a _prison?_ ”

“It’s no worse than some of the places I’ve slept before,” she joked.  When she saw the still dismayed expression on Royal’s face, she added, “It’s just for the night.  I’m worried those guards might still try something, and I need to be here to protect them in case they do.”

Ears twitching with worry, Ware said, “We could stay here and help you if you like.”

“Ohhh, yes.”  Royal tried to both look and sound enthusiastic with his offer, despite the look in his eyes that seemed to say he would rather be boiled in a hot oil bath.  “Staying out here.  Roughing it.  Just like the good, old…terrible, terrible days.”

Ware elbowed him sharply.

“Guys, seriously.  Thanks, but I’ll be _fine_ ,” she insisted.  “Go home and get some rest.  Let Torque know I’m okay.  Better than before.  I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Despite their shared apprehension, Ware nodded in agreement and Royal squeezed her in another quick, tight hug, one that Citrine was able to return.  “I’ll order a special breakfast for us all tomorrow,” Royal promised.  “After you’ve come back and thoroughly scrubbed the street from your skin, we can all eat together again.”

“And maybe actually work this all out,” Ware said.

Citrine smiled at them contentedly.  “Thanks, guys,” she said.  “You’re the best.”

As they turned and headed back down the street, Citrine reached out and caught Skull’s arm.  “Hang on there, Numskull,” she said.  “There’s something I still need to talk to you about.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to help with the move,” he snorted.  “And I’m not a street sleeping kind of person either.”

“I figured as much,” Citrine said, meeting his gaze.  “There’s just something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now.”

Citrine asked him a question.

After a moment’s hesitation, Skull gave her an answer.

Citrine asked him a favor.

Emphatically, Skull agreed to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy, yeaaaah, it definitely didn't take me three months to get this written........  
> No, but really, I've been banging around with some different original projects, and now that I'm actually kind of on track with one of them, I'll be trying to get back on a regular schedule with this one too.
> 
> So, uh, there's the childrens again and the great big family of the Vermoss Hunting Commune.


	7. Break-In/Breaking

The sad excuse for a mattress creaked as Robin rolled over, wishing not for the first time to be back on her bed roll in the wilds.  By the dim light of the hallway outside her cell, she stared at the plain cement wall before her.  It was ironic, really.  For a while now, she’d been dreaming of what it would be like to wake up with a roof over her head every day.

And now, here she was.  Roof and all.

Robin heard another mattress creak from a cell across the hall.  She glanced through the bars to make sure the guard was nowhere nearby, then quietly hissed, “Psst.  Warbler.  You awake?”

In the next cell, she could just see Warbler’s face as he opened his eyes.  “Yes, Robin,” he said.  “Who could ever sleep on these horrid things?”

She sighed and nodded in agreement.  “I never would have guessed that sleeping in a snow drift would be more comfortable than sleeping on a prison mattress,” she said.

“But here we are,” he said.

Robin chuckled lightly.  There was little else to console her right now outside of bad humor.

The two of them were silent for a moment.  Then, after making his own guard check, Warbler asked, “Where do you think Budge and Nary are?”

At his question, Robin tried not to let her mind run wild with all the morbid fantasies she’d already had of what could have happened to her teammates after they’d been separated by the guards.  She needed to be a leader now more than ever, not a frightened child.

“They probably just took them to another part of the prison,” she said.  “Didn’t want all of us collaborating before the trial.”

Warbler let out a sigh.  “I hope they’re at least together,” he said.  “Budge’ll be so anxious if he’s alone.  He might start to make a fuss asking after us.”

“And Nary might do something stupid,” she added.  With a smirk she commented, “Shame we had to fall in love with such reckless fools, isn’t it?’

Warbler snorted.  “Yeah, it’s—”

“Quiet!”

A loud CLANG against the bars of a nearby cell jolted them both upright.  Staring out through the bars, they saw an approaching narrow-eyed guard glaring back and forth between them.

“It’s lights out,” the guard snapped.  “I don’t wanna hear another word out of you criminals till dawn.”

Robin rolled her eyes at the bitter little man with his little shocky stick in hand.  “You mind cooling it with the criminal talk?” she asked.  “We’re still technically innocent on this side of the fence.”

The guard brought his full attention onto Robin, leaning his heavily lined face close to the bars.  “You know, my sister was part of the team that secured Kaijumura after what _your_ lackeys did,” he said.  “She got cornered by one of those beowolves _you_ let in.  Broken leg, three broken ribs, and a concussion before a _real_ hunter came to her rescue.  Could’ve been even worse than it was.  All because she was trying to clean up _your_ mess.”  He growled as he said, “So I hope you can get your chuckles in now, before they sentence you to _rot_ in here forever.”

Behind him, Warbler rolled his eyes.  “Good to know our prison’s safety is in such melodramatic hands,” he grumbled.

“Warbler,” Robin hissed as the guard rounded on him.  “Not the time.”

“You little bastard,” the guard growled, raising his baton.

“Look sir, we are sorry for what happened to your sister,” Robin insisted.  “We hate everything that happened to Mistral, but you have to believe us when we say—when we say…”

He turned and looked at her with her mouth hanging open in disbelief.  “What?” he snapped.  “You wanna plea your case to me?”

It wasn’t that.  It was that, hanging down from the ceiling, Robin was transfixed by the swinging tip of a blond braid.

A figure fell to the floor and struck the back of the guard’s neck.  The guard fell to the floor without a sound.

Standing where the guard had stood was Citrine.  Stand there was their daughter.

There was their daughter, and yet, there was something more there was well.  Even in profile, Robin could see a graver look in her eyes, a difference in how she carried herself—and how quickly she had dispatched the guard, that was unlike anything she had seen in the blunt, rambunctious gilr she had known.  In many ways, this was more than just her daughter standing before her—this was a rapidly growing young hunter.

But at the same time, when Robin reminded herself where she was and what she was doing, she realized this was also still that same rash, impetuous daughter of hers that was at the farthest point from needing either someone to go easy on her or for someone to respect her for such thoughtless actions.

“Citrine!” Robin hissed.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?  Do you even realize what you’re doing?”

Citrine turned to her with a look suggesting she was affronted by the question.  “What am _I_ doing here?  _You’re_ the ones who are in jail,” she snapped.

Robin let out a growl of frustration.  “You know, when we say, ‘do as we say, not as we do,’ we really mean it,” she said, glaring at her daughter.  “Us being in jail is no reason for you to break in.”

“Look, you two can argue about this later,” Warbler said urgently.  “Citrine, we love you, but you need to leave _now_.  You’re going to be in so much trouble if you’re discovered.”

“I didn’t break anything to get in here, and that guard didn’t even see me,” Citrine argued.  “I thought you’d be happy that I managed to get in like that.”

“Citrine, _please_ ,” Warbler begged.  “We don’t know when more guards will be here and the last thing we need is—”

“ _Happy?_ ” Robin echoed in disbelief.  “What should I be happy about?  That my daughter now has more reason to be in jail than we do?  You know, I thought Haven would teach you some control, but if this is how you’re still acting after all this time, then—”

“What was I supposed to do?” Citrine demanded loudly, eliciting a shush from Warbler.  She plowed on regardless, her face growing red with emotion.  “I needed to do _something_.  I couldn’t just keep sitting on my hands out in the dark.  The whole commune is confused and in danger.  I needed to do something to help them.  I needed to see you.  I—”  Her voice caught as she looked back and forth between her parents, an overwhelmed expression of concern and confusion overtaking her anger.  “Guys, where’s Nary and Budge?” she asked, her voice wavering.  “What’s—what’s going on here?”

“I’m sure they’re okay,” Warbler said, attempting to both comfort and quiet her.  “It’s okay, sweetie, it’s okay.”

“It’s not!” she exclaimed, and even in the dim light, Robin could see tears forming in the corners of her eyes.  “There’s so much going wrong right now and so many questions and so much working against you and I—I—”  She practically sobbed out, “I needed to do _something!_ ”

And with Citrine standing there, practically trembling with fear and anger and confusion, it was all too easy for Robin remember that this was  also the little girl they had found in the snow and raised to hold an axe as she wore a smile.  This was also still her daughter.

“I understand,” Robin said soothingly.  She beckoned Citrine forward and the girl practically leapt towards her, taking Robin’s hands in hers through the bars.  Robin met her yellow gaze steadily and could see her beginning to relax already.  “You wanted to do what you thought was best,” she said.  “You wanted to look after us for the sake of the rest of the commune.”

As Citrine nodded eagerly, grateful for the understanding, Robin couldn’t help but think of how terrible it must be to be both a child and a leader.  And she had thought her own go at it had been difficult enough when she was just trying to get her teammates to talk to each other.

“Citrine, come over here.  Say hello to me too,” Warbler called over.

“Right.  Sorry,” Citrine sniffed, swiping at her eyes and dashing over to his cell.  She took one of his hands as he reached out to stroke her hair.

Eyes gleaming with affection, Warbler said, “You’re getting so tall.  I thought I told you you’re not allowed to get taller than me.”

Citrine laughed, and Robin smiled behind her back.  Hearing that laugh alone almost made all this worth it.

“Nary and Budge were okay, last time we saw them,” Robin told her.  “We think they’re just in another part of the prison, although I wouldn’t recommend you trying to seek them out.”

Staring down, Citrine nodded slowly.  “I know I probably shouldn’t be here,” she said.  “But there’s a lot you need to know about your case.  Like, there’s all this ‘evidence’ about money coming in and out of your credit line and these other hunters they say you were working with and your lawyer quitting—”

“Wait, we had a lawyer?” Warbler asked.

“Yeah, and she was supposed to be a really good one!” Citrine insisted.  “Super reliable, super smart, but apparently, she just  _quit_.  But I’m not sure she did—I think someone didn’t want her to do it and they ran her off because there’s this whole conspiracy about trying to frame you guys!”  Looking back and forth between the two, she said, “’Cause none of that stuff about you is true, right?  You haven’t done anything suspicious like that, right?”

Robin frowned.  Warbler bit his lip.

“Well…” Robin slowly admitted.  “We… _have_ been moving our assets around a bit lately.”

“What?” Citrine snapped.

“And, admittedly,” Warbler said hesitantly, “there was that strange hunter kid who showed up in our camp right before we were arrested.”

“Oh—oh, come on!”  She clenched her fists in frustration.  “Next thing, you’ll be telling me that you really were at all those places Grimm were disappearing from and—and…”  Her voice trailed off as she caught the solemn looks on their faces.  “Oh, sweet dust,” she sighed.  “You really were at those places, weren’t you?  All of the things they’re saying are true, aren’t they?”

“We don’t know everything they’re saying, so we don’t know!” Warbler insisted quickly.  “But it sounds like they’re taking everything out of context anyway.”

“I know that.  _I_ know that,” Citrine said firmly, although Robin was unconvinced.  She could see the doubt in her eyes, the hesitation in her stance.  “But the rest of the commune needs more than that,” she said.  “Your case and whoever represents you next needs more than that and—and there’s something _I_ need you to clear up.”

“Of course, honey,” Warbler said.  “Anything to help.”

“Okay then,” Citrine said, squaring her shoulders and bracing herself.  “Back at the last time I called you guys…when I was having problems with my purpose here…there was something Warbler wanted to tell me, and Robin didn’t, and it seemed like it was something important.  What was it?” she asked.  “Did it have something to do with all the…’suspicious’ activity from you guys lately?”

Warbler’s mouth fell open and Robin felt her stomach clench with guilt.  “Oh, honey,” he said.  “That is…”

“That _is_ something important,” Robin nodded.  “Something we’ve been discussing for a long time.  These are less than ideal circumstances to share this with you, because this is something that will affect the commune irrevocably.”

Citrine smiled and laughed dryly.  “It can’t be that bad,” she said.  “No worse than everything else that’s happened to us.”

Oddly enough, Robin supposed that was right.  This really did help take the sting out of her announcement.  She opened her mouth to begin to explain. 

But then—

Approaching footsteps.

The crackle of electricity.

And before Citrine could flee two steps, two darts pierced her back and she began to convulse with pain as electricity coursed through her body.

“Citrine!” Robin and Warbler cried out in horrified unison.

Her body hit the floor as the sound of footsteps grew louder.  With arms trembling, Citrine weakly attempted to push herself back up onto her feet.

Then, they heard _that_  voice again.

“Could you give her another charge?” the voice asked.  “I don’t believe that one was quite enough.  Thank you.”

Another burst of electricity was administered through the barbs and wires still attached to her back.  Citrine was left to convulse on the floor as her parents could only look on in horrified silence.  As all this transpired, Abraham Hollow appeared from the darkness with a detail of prison guards at his back.

“Well, well,” Hollow said as he approached the scene.  “Now this is certainly inconvenient for all of us.  Why do you people _always_ have to insist on making this so much more complicated than it needs to be?”

Clenching the bars of her cell, Robin stared at him with wide-eyed fury and growled, “Don’t you dare touch her.  I know you, you heartless man, and if you so much as touch another hair on her head, I will _end you_.”

Hollow shook his head and tsked gently.  “You know, you really shouldn’t make such bold claims, Nomarch,” he said.  “If you can’t actually back them up—”

On the floor, Citrine groaned and struggled to push herself up onto all fours.  She had barely managed it before Hollow slammed his hand onto her back, smashing her into the hard, concrete floor.  Warbler covered his mouth as they heard something crack.

As he knelt beside the girl, heavy hand pinning her down effortlessly, Hollow locked eyes with Robin and smiled.  “If you can’t actually back them up,” he continued, “you end up looking weak.”

Robin’s blood boiled as Warbler cried out, “Stop already!  Just let her go!  She just made a dumb mistake coming here.”

“Oh, if only it were that simple,” Hollow sighed.  “However, we all know young Miss Vermoss here has committed a number of serious crimes here today.  Breaking into a sovereign prison, assaulting multiple employees, collaborating with criminals—”

“Collaborating with—she didn’t do anything!” Warbler insisted.  “She just wanted to see us!”

“And I wonder why that might be?” Hollow mused evenly.  “Why might the suspected criminals be having a meeting with their adoptive child?”

“You might understand if there was more than a void where your heart should be,” Robin growled.

Hollow ignored her, instead smiling congenially down at Citrine.  “Why don’t you speak for yourself, Miss Vermoss?” he asked.  She glared up at him from the corner of one eye, the other squinted tight with pain.  “Perhaps when you explain why you’re here, you can also explain why you were sighted with Ember Zharptitsa mere days before the attack on Kaijumura.  Or why you disappeared from the ceremony moments before a horde of Grimm was set loose on the city.”

“You can’t seriously be implying—”

“I’m not implying anything, Dalton,” Hollow said.  “I’m merely asking Miss Vermoss to explain why she seems nearly as guilty as her own criminal parents.”

Citrine took a long, shuddering breath.  Then, she spat.  Robin would’ve cheered if not for what happened next.

His face clouded over with hatred, Hollow grabbed Citrine by the throat and effortlessly lifted her into the air.  She dangled in his grasp, kicking and reaching for any purchase as she gasped for air.

“I can do this all night, Vermoss,” Hollow bellowed, a manic gleam in his eyes.  “What will it take?  More charges?  More broken ribs?  To have every last breath squeezed out of you?”  He shook her as she weakly beat her fists against his wrists.  “Or maybe I should just throw you in the smallest cell we have until you crack.  Maybe that will get the truth out of you.”

“Stop it!  Stop it!” Warbler cried out desperately, rattling the bars of his cell.  “She’s not lying!  She didn’t do anything!  Just let her go!”

“The kingdom will give anything to put this case behind them,” Hollow went on.  “If I tell them you’re the key, they won’t bat an eye at anything I do.”  He tightened his grip and Citrine let out a squeak as more breath escaped.  “I can make sure you never see the sun again.  I can make sure you never touch another plant that hasn’t been processed and canned.  If you give me even the _slightest_ excuse, I can have the pleasure of wiping out you filthy Vermosses once and for all.”

There was something unsettling about how excited Hollow seemed to be getting over all this, something off-putting to even the prison guards as they watched this man choke the life out of a teenaged girl with a manic gleam in his eyes.  In the silence, even Hollow seemed to realize how unseemly this appeared as, just as suddenly as he had grabbed her up, he released her from his grip.  Citrine collapsed to the floor, coughing and gasping for breath.  Robin started to breathe again as well.

“Or, I could let this all go,” Hollow said, straightening his jacket as casually as if he wasn’t standing before the crumpled form of a girl who would bear the bruises of his hands on her neck for weeks to come.  “This could all go away,” he told Citrine, “if your parents would just make this… _easy_.”

The man met Robin’s gaze.  Despite the animosity between them, there was understanding there too.  Robin knew what he was asking for, and when she saw Warbler’s nod behind his back, she knew there was no option but to give it to him. 

Robin Nomarch brought herself up to her full height and projected as she spoke for all present to hear.  “None of that will be necessary,” she said.  “You don’t need to hold her accountable for any of that because it was Team RNBW alone that was responsible for the attack on Kaijumura.  Citrine had nothing to do with it.  It was _all_ Team RNBW.”

In the silence that followed, only punctuated by Citrine’s wheezing breath, Hollow’s expression lit up.  “You see now,” he purred, “that wasn’t so hard to admit, now was it?”

“R-Robin, _no_ ,” Citrine barely croaked, staring at her in disbelief.  “Don’t say it.  It’s not—”

“Hush now, honey,” Warbler said in a low, cold tone.  “We’re talking.”

“I assume you’ll testify to this fact in court as well,” Hollow addressed them.  “All of you.”

“Of course,” Robin snapped as Citrine looked on helplessly.  “So long as no further harm comes to our daughter.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” Hollow agreed generously.  “I’m not some kind of _monster._   Although—”  He knelt beside Citrine and before she even had the chance to try and fight it, and had cuffed her hands behind her back.  “I hope you’ll understand if we keep her in our custody until your trial,” he said, smiling at the other hunters.  “It would be very irresponsible to simply have such a troublesome girl running around after all this.”

Robin set her eyes on her daughter who was looking up at her pleadingly, as if there was anything that could be done here.  If there was anything, she would have already done it a hundred hundred heartbeats ago.

“For once, Hollow, I think I agree with you,” Robin said, before turning back to her sad excuse for a bed.

“No!  Robin!  Warbler!” Citrine screamed, her voice barely breaking through her wounded windpipe.  “I know it’s not true!  I know it wasn’t you!  I won’t let this happen!”

“Take her away,” Hollow said, motioning for the guards to grab the girl.  “And make sure she’s placed in a nice, roomy cell, would you?  Perhaps one with a window, even.”

Robin didn’t look back to see what happened next.  Strong as she was, even she could not bear to watch as her daughter was dragged away from her, kicking and screaming out her already pitiful promises to make things right.  All she could do was listen as they grew weaker and weaker with every step until they disappeared altogether.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeaaaaahhhhh....things are going...pretty not great for the Vermoss fam right now....


	8. A Little Help From My Friends

In a cell at the end of a long hall, the newest resident of Mistral Penitentiary sat alone in a corner, as much a prisoner of her own mind as she was of the kingdom.  Racked with pain and four days’ exhaustion, she could barely move without trembling, but it was still her own guilt that consumed her thoughts more than anything.

_I was stupid._

_How could I have been so stupid?_

_I’m the one who belongs here.  Not them._

Citrine sat alone in the dark, clutching her knees to her chest, stewing in her misery and hating herself more and more each moment.  She didn’t even bother to look up when she heard footsteps approaching.  She couldn’t bear to face them.

That was how Torque found her friend that morning.  After seeing her run off with Skull, after hearing from Ware and Royal that she had chosen to stay with her family, after hearing from no less than Professor Quildrake that she had been arrested for breaking into jail, Torque found her in that cell with a dark ring of bruises around her neck and a hollow look in her eyes.

And it made her feel bad.  No, not just bad.  It made her feel more things altogether than she had ever imagined she could.    And she didn’t know what to do with that.

Beside her, Royal stared with open-mouthed horror.  It had been difficult enough for him set foot in this horrid place, even after hearing such unbelievable news, but to see his leader reduced to such a state was almost too much.  “Oh, Citrine,” he gasped.  “What did those abominable people do to you?”

Ware snorted and glared at him.  “What did _they_ do?  You mean what did _she_ do?” he snapped.  “What are you doing here, Citrine?  What were you thinking?  How could breaking into one of the most secure facilities in the world have _possibly_ been a good idea?”

Despite his outward anger, Torque knew Ware was worried too.  He had barely stopped fidgeting with his hair on the airbus ride over and he could barely get his ears to stand upright.

“I’m—I’m sure she has a reasonable explanation for this,” Royal argued.  “There has to be some kind of mistake here.  Citrine would never—”

“Well clearly, she would, because she did!” Ware shouted, clenching his fists.  “Clearly, once again, she went off on her own without any concern for the consequences—without any concern for her _friends_ —”

“I’m sure she was doing what she thought was right!”

“That doesn’t mean a thing outside of stupid stories for stupid children!”

As the boys continued to argue behind her, Torque slowly knelt before the bars and placed a hand on one of them.  Through it all, Citrine hadn’t moved, hadn’t even looked at them yet.  It would almost seem like she didn’t even know they were there—except for the fact that she had to.

She had to know they were here—for her.  _Torque_ was here for her.  Citrine had to know that.  So why couldn’t she act like it?

“Who hurt you?” Torque asked quietly.

Behind her, Ware and Royal continued to squabble.  Citrine still didn’t move.

Torque could feel a hardening creeping up her neck like tension.  “Who did this to you?” she asked again.  “Who did it?  Give me a name.  A face.  Anything.  I’ll find them.  I’ll make them regret it.  I won’t—”

“Guys, stop it!” Citrine snapped.

The boys stopped arguing.  Torque blinked slowly.  Citrine continued to stare distantly, but with a bitter look in her eyes.

“Ware’s right,” she muttered.  “This is all my fault.  I broke in here on my own to see my parents, to try to make this better and I—”  Her voice cracked and she palmed part of her face.  “I just ruined everything.”

“Well,” Ware said, sounding halfway between smug and uncomfortable, “I wouldn’t have said as much, but, yes.  Basically.”

“Ware, please,” Royal hissed.  “Citrine, surely it’s not so completely hopeless.  I mean, I’m already arranging for a new lawyer, then they can surely get you released, and then your parents—”

“That won’t do anything,” Citrine grumbled.  “You heard what happened, didn’t you?  They’re going to confess for something they didn’t do in order to cover for my screw up.  That— _Hollow_ man is using me as a weapon against them, and there is _nothing_ I can do about it.”

There was silence for a moment in the long, empty hallway as the rest of Team RWCT struggled to find the right words, as if there could be anything precisely right for such a situation.

Then Torque spoke up.  “Why didn’t you ask for help?” she asked.

Citrine didn’t respond.  Torque could feel the metallic skin creeping down her arms.  She was starting to feel hot.

“I know you didn’t get in on your own.  You asked someone else for help,” she said, furrowing her brows.  “Just not me.  Why not me?  I could’ve gotten you in.  I could’ve walked you through this whole thing.  Better than whoever you did ask.  Why didn’t you ask _me?_ ” 

Citrine began to turn away from her, but Torque wouldn’t let it go.  She grabbed the bars of the cell with a clang and shouted, “No!” eliciting shocked looks from all her teammates.  “I could have broken you in.  Ware could’ve talked your way out.  Royal could’ve just _gotten_ you in.”  Her whole body was metal, but she felt like a forge inside as all the emotions melted down.  “Why didn’t you tell us?” she shouted.  “Why didn’t you tell _me?_ ”  Torque slammed her head against the bars in frustration.

“Torque!” Ware exclaimed in alarm.

Torque slammed her head again.  “I thought we were friends.” 

SLAM! 

“I thought friends helped each other.” 

SLAM! 

“You have to let me know!” 

SLAM! 

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me when you need help!” 

SLAM, SLAM, SLAM!

Torque could've kept slamming until the bars broke or her semblance ran out, whichever came first.  She would’ve put her money on the bars.  But then, just barely, she felt a touch on her hands through the metallic skin.  Opening her eyes, she found Citrine kneeling right before her on the other side of the bars, her yellow eyes brimming with concern.  Torque softened immediately.  She realized then Ware was beside her as well with a hand on her shoulder.

“Please don’t hurt yourself because of my stupid mistake,” Citrine told her softly.  “Look, I’m sorry I hurt you, but I—I couldn’t drag you into this.  Any of you.”  She looked around at the boys as well and said, “This was my family’s mess.  I couldn’t stand getting you hurt or in trouble because of what happened to my family.  Do you understand?”

Torque truly did not, but she assumed this was because of her usual lack of comprehension of social matters.  Thankfully, Ware was there to check her work.

“Nice try, Citrine,” Ware commented with a hint of dry humor, “but we all know you’re such a goody good little leader, there is no chance you don’t consider _us_ family as well.”

Raising her eyebrows, Citrine let out a soft chuckle.  “Careful, Ware,” she said.  “Your Skull is showing.”

He shrugged.  “All I’m saying is that you’re already at rock bottom,” Ware told her.  “You don’t exactly have much to lose by being honest with us here about _why_ you broke into a high security prison.”

Sighing, Citrine sat back, resting her hands on her knees and bowing her head.  “Fine,” she muttered.  “You wanna know why I didn’t ask you guys for help?  It’s because I’ve spent way too much time lately screwing up and needing help and putting people in danger.  I have spent too much time lately feeling absolutely helpless, and I needed to do this to…to… _not feel like that_.”  She shook her head slowly.  “And look how that turned out.”

“Now, one moment here.”  Royal folded his arms and tilted his head.  “Forgive me if I’m not following correctly here, but, Citrine, are you telling that you went through all this because _you_ haven’t felt powerful enough lately?”  He chuckled and said, “I’m sorry, but that may be the most ludicrous statement I’ve ever heard.”

Citrine gaped, beyond offended, to have her issues trivialized by _Royal_ of all people.  “It’s not just about power!” she shouted.  “My life feels out of control.  I feel like I don’t even know myself lately!”

“Oh yes, how terrible that must be,” Ware commented, rolling his eyes.  “To be out of control, to feel as though someone else is pulling the strings, to not know what your own identity is meant to be, I can’t even _imagine_ what that must be like.”

She clenched her teeth as her face began to flush.  “You just don’t get it,” she growled.  “It’s different for me.  _I’m_ the leader here.  _I_ have to responsible for all of you.  If you have to risk your necks because I got cornered by some beowolves, that’s on me.  If you destroy an old warship while I’m wondering if I belong here, that’s on me.  If the entirety of Kaijumura is flooded with Grimm and you all almost _die_ because I wasn’t strong enough or fast enough or smart enough—”

“Then that’s on all of us,” Torque said.  The girl tilted her head slightly and said, “No offense, but I’m starting to think it’s actually you who doesn’t know what being on a team means.”

“Wh—Torque!” Citrine exclaimed indignantly.

“You think it’s a bunch of people working together while one person looks after all of them,” Torque said.  “But really, even though one person may be in charge, it’s the jobs of everyone to look after each other.  Even Royal.”

“Yes, even—wait, excuse me?”

“She’s right, you know,” Ware nodded.  “Admittedly, when it comes to this team in particular, that isn’t always the easiest concept to follow through on.  I do wish at times you had a few less self-destructive tendencies to have to look after, but at the same time, I know I have hang-ups of my own.”  His ears flicked, “I also know that if those hang-ups ever got me into trouble, you wouldn’t hesitate for a second to do anything you could to help me.”

“But—guys!” Citrine exclaimed.  Her heart raced as she tried to confront in her mind what they were saying.  “It’s not supposed to work like that.  I’m supposed to take care of you.  Take care of _everyone_.  If I’m not—if I become a burden—then what good am I?”

Ware’s expression softened sympathetically at her confusion.  It was oddly reassuring to hear that even Citrine had insecurities.  “Well, I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” he said, “but that means you just have to be as good as the rest of the people who have relied on you so many times already.”

“It’s as simple as that,” Royal said, puffing out his chest proudly.  “If you ever require our assistance—”

“You just have to ask,” Torque cut in eagerly.

It took a moment for what they were saying and doing to sink in, but when it did, Citrine began to feel oddly relieved.  Despite being confined in an imposing gray cell and facing down an even more imposing future, Citrine felt free.  For just one moment, she had been alleviated of an insecurity that had haunted her all her life—the belief that others’ love for her had always been conditional upon her worth to them.  But despite doing everything possible in the past 24 hours to endanger and inconvenience the people she loved, she hadn’t seen a single sign that they had stopped loving her.  Neither Team RNBW nor Team RWCT had shown an ounce of hesitation in their willingness to stand beside her. 

And with that weight lifted, if only for a moment, Citrine was able to hold her head high as she looked at Torque, Ware, and Royal in the eye as she said, “Please—will you help my parents?”

***

After the rest of Team RWCT left, Citrine settled down against the wall beside the bars of her cell and began to contemplate how to spend the rest of her stay.  Although the prospect of staying in such a tiny space with nothing to do would normally drive her up a wall, when she took a moment to realize how sore and tired she was, she began to realize that maybe a forced rest wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.  Plus, after all the reckless action she’d taken in the past few weeks, she thought that a time out of sorts to rethink her ways wouldn’t be so bad either.

She had barely taken a moment to consider the apology she would give to Team RNBW upon their release when she heard footsteps coming down the hall.  Without even turning back to look, she knew who it was.  The end of the hall these footsteps were approaching from was a dead-end, after all.

She smirked.

After looking in at her cell for a moment, someone settled on the other side of the wall she sat against.  That someone began to speak.

“I could get you out, you know,” the person said in a much more reserved tone than Citrine was used to hearing from him.

Oddly enough, she felt more jovial than usual when talking to him.  “I know,” Citrine said lightly.

She heard a growl on the other side.  “Of course you know.  You know I phased you through that rubble in Kaijumura.  You know I can extend my semblance to other people.  That’s why you asked me to break you in her in the first place, and I agreed because—dust knows why—I thought you were smart enough not to get yourself caught!”

Citrine paused just long enough to let him stew.  “And your point is?”

“Are we doing this or not?” he demanded.  “Am I breaking you out of here or not?”

“Mmmm… _not_ ,” Citrine said playfully.

She heard the thud of a fist against the bars.  “Damn it, Sunshine, what’re you playing at?” he demanded in frustration.  “Do you want to rot in here forever?  I’m giving you an out.”

“And I’m saying I don’t need it.  Me breaking out right now would only cause more problems, and that’s the last thing I need to do right now,” she said.  “Look, it’s nice that you’re worried about me and all—”

“ _Worried?_   About _you?_   I’m just trying to remove the temptation for you to rat on me.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that,” Citrine said.  And by the silence that followed on the other side, she could tell that even _he_ couldn’t find a way to disagree with that.  “What I’m saying is that I’m not the one in trouble right now.  My parents are, and because my team is trying to help them, so are they.”

“Yeah?” he snorted.  “So what?”

“So, if you wanted to help them, you could.”

There was a disbelieving bark of laughter.  “And why should I do that?”

“Honestly, by our usual logic, you shouldn’t,” Citrine said.  “You don’t owe me anything at this point.  If anything, I owe _you_.  Plus, I’m not sure if you and my teammates even like or respect each other.”

“Still waiting to hear a reason here, Sunshine.”

“Well…we’re friends, aren’t we?”  she asked.  “And, as I’ve been informed now, friends help each other, whether they have something to offer each other or not.  So really, there’s no ‘reason’ for you to help them out.  But,” she added hopefully, “if you _wanted to_ , I’d really appreciate it.”

There was silence on the other side—silence with almost audible fuming.  Then, stomping footsteps leading away and right out the solid wall at the end of that hallway.

And then, there was only Citrine, left to her thoughts.  She began to wonder how to thank someone like that.  Maybe he’d appreciate some really nice cake.  Gifted in secret, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the second choice for the title of this chapter is 1-800-ARE-YOU-SLAMMIN


End file.
